


Secrets of the Isle of the Lost: Hidden Files

by DanayaJasmina, QueenAshe (queenofdespair)



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies), The Isle of the Lost Series - Melissa de la Cruz
Genre: Absent Parents, Abusive Parents, Angst and Feels, Blood and Violence, Book: Return to the Isle of the Lost, Book: Rise of the Isle of the Lost, Book: The Isle of the Lost, Canon Rewrite, Dark Comedy, Denial of Feelings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Feelings Realization, Gen, Implied/Referenced Death in Childbirth, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Isle of the Lost (Disney), Light Masochism, Light Sadism, Major Original Character(s), Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Minor Canonical Character(s), Minor Character Death, Minor Injuries, Minor Original Character(s), Not Disney's version, Physical Abuse, Pre-Descendants (2015), Racism, Sex Talk, The Author Regrets Nothing, United States of Auradon (Disney), United States of Auradon (Disney) Is Not Perfect, Villainous Friendships, Villains, Worldbuilding, because the isle kids are that fucked up, fuck Auradon, nobody is innocent, subtle book references, twisted concepts of relationships and love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-04-22 02:24:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14298714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanayaJasmina/pseuds/DanayaJasmina, https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenofdespair/pseuds/QueenAshe
Summary: In-between chapters, background info/stories and canon one-shots for the main story, "Secrets of the Isle of the Lost".---Updates:-Chapters are now in order of chronological events. [1/16/19].-Edits and revisions have been applied. Happy reading! [1/24/19].





	1. "The Sins of the Father that Killed the Son"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long-awaited answer to the question of "What happened to Jay?"
> 
> And who his mother was.
> 
> \---  
> Disclaimer: Despite the "Author Regret Nothing" tag, we're actually sorry about this chapter.
> 
> Tears were shed in the making of this chapter and after.

_“Don’t look at me. I don’t have a mother.”_

_-Jay, The Isle of the Lost._

_\---_

**Interior of Jafar's Junk Shop,**

**Jafar's study/room:**

The only thing the four-year old knew about his mother was that she was a _nobody._

Even if he knew that she was long dead, Jafar’s only son - named Jay still had questions, such as what death was, which only served to further annoy the former grand vizier of Agrabah. Jafar rolled his eyes and bent down, his hands on his knees.

“She’s gone. No longer existing. _Deceased._ ” He stressed these words, hoping that it would sink into the boy’s skull.

The boy wasn’t _dumb_ , but he just didn’t _understand_. It felt like his father was just saying words, so he eventually left it alone. Jafar was glad when he seemingly ‘got it’.

Jay would come to realize what death actually meant when he was six.

Not when he was four, and saw kids his age literally keel over and didn't move anymore. Not when he was five, and witnessed an adult get stabbed fifteen times in the chest and die from blood loss. Not even when he was thinking about how the island wouldn't care if he, himself stopped breathing, either. 

But when he was six, when his father kicked him out of the house.

Jafar quoted the reason as being that he got tired of looking at Jay's face.

The little boy didn’t know where to go, so he stayed just outside of the shop, and sat with his legs crossed under him. The weather that day was brutally cold. He, like most Isle residents barely knew warm air or humidity, and since it was nowhere near the summer season, he had made the poor decision to wear a vest instead of a full jacket with sleeves. He wrapped his arms around himself and shuddered.

Luckily, it was only until the day was over.

When Jafar had brought him back in, the boy was shivering, almost icy to the touch. It was amazing how he didn’t get sick or get hypothermia. (Though he did have a brief fever lasting four days and five nights, and Jafar didn’t care to help nurse him back to health. Because _of course,_ Jafar wouldn't).

Jay didn't have time to get sick. His father needed him to steal. In a way, he was Jafar's work mule, despite being so young. So he winged whatever half-baked remedies that he heard on the Isle streets, and old things that he got from books, which nearly extended his fever into a week because he messed up on one of the key ingredients. (He also was again, only _five and a half,_ then. His reading comprehension wasn't sharp. _Yet_ ).  And since there were no doctors on the Isle, getting _any_ type of sickness was a death sentence, especially if the person didn’t have an evolved immune system....

Either way, he understood that there were expectations and he had to meet them... 

Jafar asked if he understood why he locked him out. He wasn’t sure what the right answer was, so he didn’t give one. The six-year old looked at Jafar with his round, dark brown eyes, waiting for him to explain. He just wanted to _understand_ . Jafar motioned for his son to come closer with a hand, and leaned against a stolen-- ahem, _borrowed_ large old-fashioned television. He exhaled, tilting his head down to look down at the spawn that he’d managed to bring into the world.

To Jay, it felt like he was actually looking down at him like he was _nothing_. (Which wasn’t _incorrect_ for him to think). He sat down. 

“Your mother died six years ago today.” Jafar said bluntly. 

 _Ouch._ Jay blinked. He felt smaller. The tone that his dad used never changed; it was harsh, biting and severe. He hated talking to him because it felt he was always _scolding him just for breathing._ “Mom died on my birthday?” He asked. “...Is it my fault she’s dead?”

“Yes.” Jafar answered firmly. He watched the gears work in the mind of his son, and eventually the boy looked away from his father, his shoulders dropping.

“...Oh.” Jay understood. Suddenly, he felt colder. He wrapped his arms around himself again. He was a scrawny boy that looked like he was always hungry. His soft, round eyes were feminine (a trait from his mother) and his hair was shoulder-length. “Do I look like mom?” he asked after a while. He still didn’t look up at Jafar.

“You have... some of her traits.” Came the carefully worded response. Being restrained to the Isle had hardened Jafar; making him even harsher than he ever was before he died. The only thing that he remembered was excruciating pain and screaming from his very soul (if he even had one) as he was electrocuted and his lamp fried in a volcano. But somehow, he was back in a human body - his _old_ human body, but in his prime, which was why he looked a bit younger. He didn’t have his blasted staff either... So currently, the only thing that was left was the bitter, manipulative shell of a man scorned. All of the knowledge of magic and mysticism was rendered _useless_ thanks to the barrier.

It was why he didn’t bother teaching Jay _any_ magic.

“You have her long hair,” he continued as he walked towards the small boy, towering over him.

Jay looked up at him finally. “I do?” He asked curiously.

“Oh, yes,” he hummed, leaning forward to touch his son's straight hair. (Definitely Jafar's DNA). He then slowly closed his fist around a strand of it. “And it simply _won’t do_ . I’ll have to cut it.” He continued, looking at his hair like it was the murky, mud-tasting coffee that the goblins made down at the Slop Shop. “Oh, and your frame is atrocious,” he mentioned, letting go of his hair. He poked at one of his son’s scrawny, somewhat squishy arms. It reminded Jafar of _himself_ as a child; scrawny, and small -- lonely and hopeless on the streets of Agrabah. There was no mercy as he was a poor child. Poor and _weak_. He snarled at the memory. “No child of mine will be ..” He rolled his hands around, looking for the word. He looked at Jay, expecting him to finish the sentence.

“Puny?”

“Yes, that!” Jafar grinned a malicious grin, clapping his hands together. “Oh, you really _are_ a smart one, aren’t you?” He chuckled lightly, almost tempted to ruffle his son’s hair. _Almost._

That was the closest to being paternal that he'd ever get.

“You might not be a total disappointment after all. _Maybe_ .” His long, nearly-bony fingers stroked his black goatee. He then twisted it around with his index finger, beginning to walk around Jay in a circle. Some- no, _all_ of the things he said to Jay were rude and hurtful. Jafar called it _‘conditioning’_ , because the Isle was harsh and he didn’t want a soft-hearted heir. (Jay didn’t believe his excuse, but it _did_ make a bit of sense so he went with it -- again, all the boy wanted was to _understand_ things).

“Can you … tell me about mom?” He asked hesitantly, having stopped watching his dad circle him. It made him feel a little dizzy. At that question, Jafar slowed his steps and stopped in front of Jay, again towering over him. The boy got to see Jafar at his full height, his black cape billowing behind him.

“Your mother?” He repeated, a finger tapping his chin. It _was_ the anniversary of her death, after all. The boy had the right to know _something_ at least. But he didn’t need to know the _truth_. “Oh, very well.” He cooed, smoothly folding his arms behind his back. He decided to dramatically pause before proceeding. “She died giving birth giving to you,” he casually told him. “She cursed your name, and said she hated you.” Jafar’s facial expressions weren’t very expressive, and neither were Jay’s --  they had that in common.

Actually, it was the _one_ thing that Jafar did happen to like about his son; it made Jafar more crafty with his manipulation and abuse, and made him try even _harder_ to hurt him.

 _To see him break_.

To someone like Jafar who was an emotional sadist, it satisfied him having an outlet to throw his frustration and anger at, for being imprisoned on the blasted island. “I think she even said that she wished that she never had you.”

Jay swallowed. His words bounced around in his head; **_(“She died giving birth giving to you”)._**  Jafar’s ever watchful eyes caught that minute falter in his body language. The little boy fiddled with his thumbs, then slowly stopped. **_(“She cursed your name, and said she hated you”)_** _._ Jafar grinned pleasantly, not even trying to hide his open satisfaction in causing his son’s suffering. Jay looked down at his feet, suddenly not knowing what to do with his hands, so he tightly clutched the bottom of his torn and dirtied shirt. “...she hated me that much?” He asked quietly.

“Does that make you sad?” Jafar asked, sitting down on the couch finally. He placed one leg over the other, his hands interlocked over a knee. He tilted his head to the side, his eyes watching his six-year-old son hold himself tighter.

The boy took a long pause as Jafar’s words sunk in.

The question hung in the air, unanswered. Unknowing to Jay, his eyes slightly darkened over.

In that moment, Jafar knew that he succeeded. He laughed victoriously, for a long while.

\----

**Six years ago:**

“You. _Come here._ ” Jafar’s voice boomed.

The youthful face turned around, swallowing the fear that managed to bubble up in her throat. “ _Coming--_!” She yelled back in Arabic. She swallowed harshly.

Anissa didn’t know why or what compelled her to be so free-spirited or strong-willed, but she was. Perhaps she got it from her father -- or maybe her own mother, who always taught her how to speak her own mind. While a good lesson, _look where it got her._

Trapped and imprisoned on the Isle of the Lost, because she _“spoke her mind”_ against King Adam.

As punishment, she was sent to the prison island since she “cared so much”, she was to “live amongst them”. It was unfair, and it was cruel -- the girl was only a teenager, not even eighteen, but _sixteen_ ; a youth with wavy, shoulder-length brown-black hair, olive-brown skin, a narrow nose, big, round eyes and a dazzling smile that would brighten up rooms -- which _died_ officially a year ago. Her parents protested against it, many people did - but all actions were in vain.

She was left to rot, her existence forgotten to the world as Adam had her imprisonment covered up with a falsified death.

-

_Her name was dragged through the mud and used as anti-villain propaganda. She could never forget it, because she remembered seeing posters with a picture of a brown girl (that wasn’t even her skin tone), with headlines saying that she was the victim of infighting between two big-named villains that she was too distraught to pay attention to the names of.  Since then, she was all alone with no friends. Haunted by the reality of no more kisses from her mother and father, no more hugs, no more staying up all-night past her bedtime willingly , and no more free will. Anissa, and her parents thought that Adam would release her. It was when she held at gunpoint and robbed, when Jafar “swooped” in to save her, and became nothing more than a slave for his basic, carnal desires and outlet for his rage that she realized that freedom is not only a lie, but a dream that she could never afford, even if she gave up an arm and a leg._

_“What did I do to deserve this?” Anissa used to cry at night._

_She prayed to Allah many times and asked for mercy._

_She prayed and asked for salvation, for a way out._

_She stopped when she saw her “death” making news via posters and on the Auradon Network Channel._

_When she saw her parents lose hope on television and her mother break down in tears. It was when she noticed that not only did they cover up her death, but used some other brown girl and most likely killed her to push the Anti-Villain rhetoric… that she realized that the world was cruel and unfair._

_She realized it didn’t matter._

_She realized that either there was no Allah, or that she was unworthy. Perhaps both. She could still hear the cries of her mother in her ears; **(‘** **You’re not taking my child! You’re not taking her! Leave her alone! By Allah, you’re not taking my baby!’)** . _

_Her father was the most broken-hearted Anissa’s saw him; so much so that he hung himself the night after. Her mother jumped out of a window the same night his body was found. Of course, their deaths only fueled the fires of anti-Auradon sentiments, but being the continental superpower that they were, Agrabah and other nations that dared to speak out were silenced._

_The Sultan and Sultana, Aladdin and Jasmine respectively, were vocal and upset about it, especially because their own son, Aziz nearly died when he was born. They were lucky to have a child, even if he was disabled; unable to walk on his own two legs for the rest of his life. Because anything was better than nothing._

_Anything was better than nothing, they told themselves._

-

“ _What were you doing in my room, woman?_ ” Jafar's fingers instantly gripped Anissa's neck as she emerged from the door. “ _What have I told you about being in there without my permission?”_ The teenager’s choked cries annoyed him further-- which led to him releasing her throat only to follow up with a swift back-hand to her face. Anissa’s head turned to the side, a red imprint left on her cheek. “ _What have I told you_? HUH?!” He yelled, spittles landing on her face. Instinctively, the girl brought up her arms to defend herself.

“ _Please, I’m sorry! Don’t hurt me! Please don’t! I’m with your child-”_ She reminded in frantic Arabic. Jafar’s hand was in the air to slap her once more. He stopped his hand a centimeter away from her face. His face, which was wrought in anger, relaxed slightly as he closed his eyes and breathed. His next words were even and steady.

“ _Get up_. _Don’t make me repeat myself_.”

\---

**Fast forward, nine months later:**

The baby came out after hours and hours of screaming, thrashing and heavy bouts of pain and discomfort. Covered in goo, fluid and red stuff, it looked more like a squishy lump of flesh, rather than a tiny human. Anissa was only semi-conscious, and still out of it, because her body felt hot and heavy, still -- like she was bag of bricks instead of a girl forced into motherhood.

Her eyes were opened, but squinted into near slits. She heard a distant noise of someone, or something screaming, but couldn’t place it. It made her ears and head hurt, and it was then that she noticed that it was pounding. She groaned in pain, trying to roll over to her side, but failed -- she completely rolled off the bed and had hit the floor.

 _“I can’t feel my legs,”_ She uttered in Arabic, trying to get her bearings together. She winced in pain, and realized that her face was wet. A trembling hand went to her cheek, and felt the tears that had stained her face. She was crying? Why was she crying? Why couldn’t she remember the past few hours? Wait, isn't she carrying a child? Then who--

 _“You’re not supposed to,”_ Jafar replied. The man held the newly-birthed child by its sides, and then laid it down on a table that he cleared for the process beforehand. _“You’re also not supposed to be moving.”_

Suddenly, fear gripped Anissa’s entire being, and she felt more sweat gather along her forehead and face. Slowly starting to come back into herself, she realized that her purpose, the one reason why she was still breathing was gone. She had to move! She had to try to get away. Even if she couldn’t feel the bottom half of her body, even if she couldn’t escape to anywhere else---

 _“I told you to stop moving, didn’t I?”_ Jafar’s cold, hard voice made Anissa’s frantic, trembling body falter slightly.

But the girl still tried her best to crawl away, soft sobs wracking her frame. Panic settled in, and she tried to move faster, tried to will her legs to move. (She still couldn’t feel that unfortunately..).

Looking at the back of her head, Jafar remembered the hours of labor and contractions he had to deal with; her stupid, annoying attempts at resistance.

At every turn, she annoyed him. At every turn, she _angered_ him. Now that he had what he wanted, he didn’t have to deal with her anymore.

He didn’t have to _put up_ with her anymore.

So Jafar decided, as he watched her pathetic form attempt to rebel against him for the _last time_ , that he was finally done with her.

The former Vizier of Agrabah snarled, and walked over to his desk. He picked up a hand-sized rock and walked to Anissa and placed his foot on her back to pin her in place. The rock came down against the back of her head once -- drawing a pained cry from her. He picked it up, and struck the back of her head with it again, _harder_ , to shut her up. Then again, again, and _again_ , until nothing was left, save for a massive red spot where the back of her skull was caved in.

Soon, the only noise that filled the room was Jafar’s heaving chest.

That, and the screaming child that was now starting to dance on his last nerve.

 

 

 


	2. "The Fire and the Sea"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Sauda/Vice and Uma became the best (read: worst) of friends on the Isle of the Lost.

It was a not-so-chilly day in the month of June.

For the first time in all of the girl’s ten years of life, she knew what the term “warm air” meant. Some places on the Isle (near sea shores and docks mostly) were colder. As she walked through the Goblin Wharf, she recalled that it was due to how because how water interacted with air.

Science was something that she liked, because it gave her an excuse to perform experiments (and get out the house). She wasn’t necessarily a _curious_ child, but she liked knowledge; she liked knowing things because it made her feel good. Knowledge meant that she was _prepared_.

Knowing things also made the world a little more interesting.

Too bad _people_ didn’t have the same effect on her.

At such a tender age, she discovered that she already didn’t like socializing with people.

She saw too many people _hurt_ each other, too many people get _false hope_ only to smacked in the face with it, or people who were overly-emotional, a little too expressive get fucked over. To say that she was jaded would be the understatement of the century.

To make matters worse, Scar didn’t teach Sauda empathy, so she grew up without it.

She was never taught the values of teamwork, never taught the concept of proper and healthy bonds, and thusly, never saw the value in them. She was taught that people were meant to be tools, _play-things_ to step over for when she could rule the Pridelands.

So she didn’t make friends.

She didn’t even think about it.

Not that she objected to her father’s teachings, but she didn’t care for creating an army or an horde of mindless drones… she disregarded that part of his teachings because it would be too much work to maintain power in those types of relationships. One false move and the army could end up turning on her. One false move, and entire kingdoms could be fractured.

So she decided to do everything by herself.

No friends, no henchmen, no lackeys, no outside forces to have an influence on her decision making.

At ten years old, this seemed only right to Sauda.

The kids on the island backstabbed each other all the time, so what was the point?

(Un) fortunately for her, it made for a lonely life, but she was perfectly fine with it. As far as she was concerned, she wasn’t frightened by the prospect of dying alone, or in general.

Death was inevitable.

It was a thing that happened; a _real_ thing, evidenced by the piles of Mufasa-knows-how-many-months-old dead corpses were in black garbage bags near dumpsters, behind certain shops.

(Scar at one point explained it to her saying, “They were not sleeping, but gone. Gone like _Mufasa”)._

There was no way to dispose of bodies because the island didn’t have a graveyard. (Not a _proper_ one, anyways). Death surrounded the island, _always_ , and with no means of escape, the Isle of the Lost was less of a prison island, and more of a _death sentence_. It was easy to see why the island had a bad reputation, but it was even funnier that the inhabitants of said island adapted to it.

Correction -- _most_ people adapted to it.

There were some who, according to Sauda hadn’t “understood” what the Isle fully meant. Those who were not corrupted yet, those who were still soft-hearted, sensitive, _stupid…_ like Sauda would see now.

A brown-skinned girl huddled up in a ball held the other 10 year old’s attention. Sauda knew it was a girl by looking at her fingers. (Boys typically avoided any type of cosmetics on the Isle for.. obvious reasons. So yes, some things _were_ gendered on the island).

The girl’s nails were mostly a lively aqua color that alternated between that and a stark-white color. They were pretty, Sauda had to admit, but it annoyed her that such pretty nails belonged to someone who was making themselves an open target by just sitting there… What was the girl even doing? Sauda wondered. Dare she approach her? Would she regret it if it turned out to be a trick to rob her?

(Sauda didn’t carry important shit with her for that reason, actually. She’s been robbed twice, and that two times too many for her. She did manage to get her stuff back, but she ended up selling it anyway. Talk about irony...).

Sauda tapped a finger against her cheek. Should she take the risk anyway?

...Ah, fuck it.

She walked right up to the girl that was holding herself. Sauda put her hands on her knees and leaned over the girl.

“What’s wrong with you?” A little bit on the nose, but she wasn’t really taught to be “nice” and coddling either. 

“Who are you?” The girl sniffled, quickly wiping at her face with the back of her palms.

“I asked you a question first.”

The girl sitting down frowned, but still refused to answer the stranger’s question. “Why does it matter?”

“It doesn’t to me. I just wanted to know why you’re here. And what’s with your eyes? They’re so ...red. There’s water coming from them. ...That is water, isn’t it?” Sauda scrunched up her face, upon seeing the girl’s whole face. The girl with aqua and white nails also wore a brown paper bag over her head (specifically her hair), and had bloodshot eyes with the surrounding skin being puffy as if she had been crying for days on end.

“...Then why are _you_ here?” She countered back again, not backing down. The girl finally stood up, showing herself to be Sauda’s exact height, not counting said paper bag over her hair. “And no. I’m-- … nothing’s wrong.”

“You’re a bad liar,” Sauda replied without skipping a beat. “I can smell when people are lying to me. Your voice sounds crack-y, too.”

“Shut up!” The other girl exclaimed, stomping her foot. “I said _nothing’s_ wrong! I just… just leave me alone,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest, her bottom lip quivering. She bit down on it to try to keep herself from crying some more. “I’m not crying,” she said at last. She reached out and shoved Sauda away from her.

Scar’s kid blinked once, then twice. Then she dusted herself off. She looked at the other girl as she eventually crumbled and started making noises again. More “water” came out of the girl’s eyes. Sauda’s never saw anyone … cry before, so this was new for her.

And _weird._

 _‘How does she make water come out of her eyes? Is that a power? Oh wait, that wouldn’t work.. No magic.’_ She looked up at the barrier.

The invisible, anti-magic barrier that separated their hell-hole, _death sentence_ from the sparkly, most likely clean kingdom of Auradon.

Whenever anything came on the television (because there was only ever one channel at any given time), she turned it off.

Auradon, and the concept of it made her feel… well, _not very good_ about herself.

When she saw “heroes”, she didn’t see faces that looked like hers.

She didn’t see _herself._

She didn’t see the _point._

And then on top of that, there were propagandized posters on _every_ part of the island with messages always being “do good”, “good is better than evil”, and so on. For someone like Sauda who was smart and perceptive at her young age.. constant bombardment of messages like that, made her… feel _less than_ , to put it mildly.

She never told her father, but it made her like a monster. As if she personally _deserved_ her punishment despite not doing anything…

And if she was going to be treated as a monster, she might as well be the _worst_ one of them all.

“....” So, as the other girl cried into her hands, Sauda watched.

Getting to her feet, she stood there, numb.

It was more of a morbid curiosity for Sauda to see how long she could stand to watch the other make those annoying faces and noises.

(Apparently it only took the girl about thirty five minutes to stop. Not that Sauda knew because she also didn’t carry a watch, but it was a rough estimate. It was probably longer than that).

The other girl looked up, and furrowed her eyebrows. “… Why are you still here…?” She questioned, confused (rightfully so).

Sauda shrugged. “...are you done making water come out of your eyes yet? Can you answer my question now?”

The girl blinked. _‘She's weird…’_ Then, she puffed her chest out and tried to look authoritative. “Answer mine first. Who are you?”

“Sauda.” The daughter of Scar stood straight up and swung her arms back and forth absentmindedly. “Saw-duh.” (Because as _diverse_ as the Isle of the Lost was, people still had problems _pronouncing_ ethnic -sounding names).

“...Sauda?” The girl was unsure if she was saying it right. But “Sauda” nodded, so that meant she was on the right track, apparently. “I’m ...Uma.”

“Uma. I like that name,” Sauda told her honestly. She continued swinging her arms back and forth. “Why were you uh, what’s the word again..? Oh! Why were you ‘crying’?” She asked.  (It was her first time witnessing someone openly cry; with tears actually staining her face).

“...Seriously?” Uma narrowed her eyes, frowning. She still couldn’t trust her as far as she could throw her…. “Don’t act like you don’t already know…”

“I don’t. Honest. That’s why I’m asking. So I can know.”

“Are you being sassy?”

“Define sassy.”

“...You’ve gotta be kidding.”

“I’m not--!” Sauda exclaimed, frowning herself. (Why did people think she was being a smartass when all she wanted was to know things?). She threw her hands up in the air.

“...” Deciding to believe her _for now_ … Uma sighed, and gripped her biceps tightly. Her nails were slightly digging into the fabric of her lavender fishnet shirt with octopus decals. “...I got shrimp dumped on me a few days ago.. And I can’t get the smell out of my hair…” Her frown morphed into a scowl and she looked at the ground. “People were making fun of me. Pointing and laughing, and calling me ‘Shrimpy.’ …”

“What did you do back?”

“Huh?”

“What did you do back?” Sauda repeated. “If someone made fun of you, you’re supposed to punch them in the face! ...At least that’s what _I_ do. People don’t talk as much when you hit them in the face _hard_ enough. And I do hit hard, so I should know.”

Uma blinked awkwardly, and scratched the side of her neck. “Um..”

Sauda blinked. “...You let them do that and you _didn’t_ hit them? Why? No wonder why you’re here. You didn’t take your revenge like you’re supposed to!”

Uma rubbed at her arm, and shook her head. “I-I can’t… not .. not when I smell like this.. I’m surprised you haven’t said anything about it..”

Sauda tilted her head to the side. “What are you talking about? Do you mean the shrimp smell? I picked it up already! It’s actually not as bad as you think it is,” the girl replied. “If you want, I can get rid of it so you can take your revenge on whoever did it to you.”

“...you.. You would?”

“I’m not doing anything today. I don’t mind.”

“....”

“Do you wanna? I also know how to do hair! Or.. I’m trying to learn..” Sauda pursed her lips, then frowned. “I’m trying, but I think I did it wrong..” She pointed to the mess of black hair that was on her head. The forming dreadlocks were well, _forming_ , but it made Sauda look like a mini-pine tree with big, green eyes. (A  _cute_ one at that, but don’t let her know). “But I know how to braid, kinda!”

“I don’t know if I should trust you...”

“You don’t have to.” The girl continued her casual tone.

Now that she talked to Uma, she didn’t find her annoying or stupid anymore. But she was still curious. _‘Was that why she put a bag over her head…?’_ Sauda wondered. “You’re being smart, so I’m not mad at you.”

“Why are you so… calm about this...?”

Sauda shrugged. “I dunno. I just am, I guess?”

“That doesn’t help me.”

"I could actually help, if you showed me your hair. It’s probably not even that bad.”

Uma swallowed, and then shifted the weight between her feet. “....”  She fiddled with her index fingers before speaking up again. “Just… don’t _tell_ anyone, okay?” She closed her eyes and slowly removed the paper bag from the top of her head and revealed her aqua braids. They were haphazardly cut, some of them being close to Uma’s scalp, others reaching to the girl’s ear. “My mom did this.. As punishment. I ...don’t want to go home. To hear about how much of a weakling I am..” She didn’t know what to expect when she showed Sauda; probably laughter, or some derisive comment about how she looked completely _terrible._ (Someone called her rat-face, previously). But what she didn’t expect was silence. She opened one eye, then the other.

“.... _why._ ” It wasn’t a question by the way that Sauda had uttered it, but a _demand_. The ten-year old scowled, a hand clenched into a fist. “Your mom didn’t need to do that… that’s _stupid_.”

Uma blinked. _‘This girl is definitely weird…’_ She quickly shoved the bag back on her head; insecurities threatening to swallow her whole. She huffed and closed her eyes again; trying to ignore the nagging voice in the back of her head, the one that sounded way too much like her mother that said that she was “a disgrace”, “ungrateful”, “a little whelp”, “weak hearted idiot”.

(It was the other reason why she was crying earlier.... She couldn’t get it out of her head, and _still couldn’t_ ).

The girl marched up to Uma with importance, and grabbed her by one of her arms, which made Uma flinch. “You better take your revenge. You can’t let people beat you down, otherwise you’ll _stay_ there. You can’t do that. Not now. Not _here._ You’ll _die._ And… you can’t die, Uma.”

“Why.. why not?”

“Because,” Sauda paused. She didn’t know where she was going with it. For the first time in her life, she actually didn’t know what to say. “Um..”

_‘_ _That is a good question. What am I supposed to say?’_

She questioned herself. Blinking some more, she let go of Uma’s arm, and jutted out her lower lip as she thought about it. “Got it!"She exclaimed, hitting the side of her fist into her open palm. “Because-- I don’t like people! But, I want to see you get your revenge because you deserve it. And you’re not annoying."

Uma, again, wasn’t sure to make of the situation.

She also wasn't sure if that was a compliment or not...

She blinked a couple of times, then sniffled, wiping away any stray tears that threatened to spill out from her eyes. After a few minutes, she quickly recovered and folded her arms over her chest -- face slightly softened. “So... what? You like me or something?”

“Kinda!”

“...you aren’t playing tricks on me…?”

“I would probably tell you if I was.”

“...You’re.. not supposed to tell the truth, Sauda.”

“Not all villains have to lie.”

Uma opened-- then closed her mouth. She did have a point there. “I guess..”

“Sooooo?”

“What?”

“Your hair! Do you want me to get rid of the smell or not?”

“Oh..” What _did_ Uma have left to lose..? Awkwardly, Uma kicked at the ground and chewed on the inside of her lip before deciding on it. “I do. ...But you better not make me look worse than I already do or I’ll fight you.”

Sauda shrugged, and began walking. She looked over her shoulder and waved a hand to the reluctant girl. “Come on!”

Uma rubbed at her bicep with her thumb, and exhaled. “... _fine.”_

She lightly sprinted to catch up with Sauda, both girls walking away together. “But don’t tell me what to do. I’m only doing this because… well…” She sighed, eyebrows knitting in frustration as she fought to find the correct words.

“Because?” Sauda asked, putting her hands into her brown patchwork pant pockets.

“....because…” Uma repeated, trying to not come off as too strong. Or weak. “...I guess I kinda like you too. _For now._ ” She emphasizes the part with a hard glare.

“Fair enough.” Sauda snickered.

However, even if neither of them knew it yet, that day would be the beginning of one of the strongest friendships that the Isle’s ever seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Life and writer's block is a bitch.  
> But don't worry, we're still working on chapters!  
> 


	3. "Crazy In Love"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #TalkShitGetKilled
> 
> Or, "Jay has a crush on someone and he likes her alot". 
> 
> Alternatively, "Jay loses his shit".
> 
> \--
> 
> Takes place two months after the upcoming Chapter 2 of Wicked Attraction.

**Isle of the Lost,**

**Dragon Hall Academy for Cultivating Delinquent Youths,**

**Hallway/Cafeteria:**

Jay walked up to one of the lockers that were haphazardly up against the wall, reaching up to undo the master lock attached to his locker. His father drilled into his head to always have his stuff locked away, to trust _nobody_.

....Which would be followed up by lectures about how stupid he was, among other things.

In reality, Jay only did it because that’s just what good thieves do; make sure nobody else could steal their _already_ stolen goods. (Common sense isn’t so common, apparently).

It was the damn _Isle_.

His locker was filled with the books that he would read in his free time when he wasn’t torturing the poor fools who dared to cross him. _(Or beat up… or rob, or kill)._

To most people, including the students in the school, he was mostly seen as just a “thief” or a pickpocketer. Little did they know that he had smarts hidden under that mess of brown hair and a beanie.

Little did they know that he was a master of intimidation because he watched people, learned what made them tick or what made them scared. He had no problem with letting people underestimate him. It would make their downfall much more satisfying, after the fact. The only things that the Isle inhabitants knew was that he “kept to himself”, and that laughed when he was angry or irritated.

So he was a “thief”, and “crazy”. And a killer, sometimes, depending on who he fought and his mood.

All at thirteen years old. 

Though despite the rumors, his intimidating aura and intense eyes, regardless of whatever nasty rumor happened to break out, there were still people who would try him. 

One of those said people just so happened to approach him in the form of a brown-skinned boy.

“You!” The voice accused. “You purloiner!” The boy shouted, stomping up to the son of Jafar.

Jay hung his head and sighed exasperatedly. He knew who it was from the annoying voice alone.

He breathed out, and closed his locker--actually, he slammed it, which made the other boy flinch slightly. Jay chuckled at that and leaned against it, arms folded over his chest as he asked coolly. “What the fuck do you want, pipsqueak?”

“Hah!” The boy - Reza, the son of a former Royal Astronomer of Agrabah exclaimed. “You think that I will condone your actions of swindling my belongings? Unheard of!--”

As he continued ranting and raving, Jay already grew bored. He pressed a hand to his mouth, pretending to yawn, which drew the ire of the already steamed off boy. He stomped his foot and continued using big, long words - words that some of Dragon Hall’s students didn’t know.

Jay _did_ , though - but he didn’t care enough to retaliate.

He figured that the boy was mad because he finally realized that Jay had swiped his wallet, science tools for his homework and a pen from two days ago. He opened his locker again, and took a book out of it, the title being " _Conquest, War and Fear”_ by Shan Yu. (It was his favorite book that he swiped from the Athenaeum of Evil-- Dragon Hall's forbidden library). 

It also wasn't easy, what with Dr. F's cauldron-sized spider in the way. (Using LeFou Deux as bait mostly helped with that). 

He put the book back, and closed his locker. Jay turned on his heel, deeming him not worthy enough to beat up. Reza was of the few students that he could piss off without doing much, and it brought him much joy because it meant little effort into ruining his day. 

A little smirk sat on Jay’s face until...

“You and that deplorable, dark-skinned, she-rat demon are both nuisances!” Reza shouted.

The air around Reza had suddenly went cold, but he didn’t notice.

All he saw was Jay stop mid-way to the door, having been seemingly frozen. Had he struck a chord? He opened his mouth to say something else, but the only thing that came out was a loud, frightened shriek as he saw Jay turn around just as quickly, his eyes darkened over and fists clenched.

_He’d struck a chord alright._

Reza tried to swallow down his fear, but Jay was faster - and with some quick angry strides, he was at the boy’s throat, a hand grabbing his collar roughly. He parted his lips to form a sentence but any semblance of that was killed instantly when Jay's right fist rammed through it. 

"Wanna try that again?" He shoved Reza's head against the locker again. Jay’s lips were pulled back into a snarl as Reza’s annoying voice bounced around in his head.

**_(..“deplorable, dark-skinned she-rat demon"..)_  .**

He used his other hand to grab the other side of his collar, shoving him against the locker. _“' **Ant sakhif min alqarf!** ”_

Jay’s sudden outburst attracted the attention of several more students -- unaware that he was making a scene.

He didn’t care, because in that moment, all he saw was red. He could take himself or his dad being insulted - _fine_ , he was used to that. But not her **.**

_Not Vice._

That was a line that nobody would ever cross, and he’d make sure that _everyone_ knew it **.**  

In the past two months that he’d gotten to know the daughter of Scar, he realized that they both had a lot of things in common, including similar worldviews and even a shared interest for blood and violence, including other things. Needless to say, they 'bonded'. Probably _more_ than they intended to, but they did. 

_‘I’ll kill him.’_

She was someone who didn’t just see what was on the surface. She was someone who understood the mental maze that was his mind. (Because as _chill_ as he was with Hadie, he was also scared of Jay subconsciously, and they _both_ knew it). 

‘̷I̷’̶l̵l̷ ̶k̷i̷l̴l̷ ̷h̵i̴m̴.̴’̶ ̶

She was someone who meant something, even if he didn't have a word for it, even if he did figure out the word in the future only to never it out loud, and he wasn’t going to let this shit-faced little nerd, _insult that._

**̴ ̵‘̶I̵’̸l̷l̸ ̴f̵u̴c̴k̵i̴n̴g̴ ̸k̵i̷l̴l̶ ̵h̷i̶m̶.̶’̵ ̴**

The back of Reza’s head repeatedly hit the lockers roughly, producing pained groans from the boy. He placed his hands over Jay’s, trying to pry the older boy off of him and failing.

So he reverted back to verbal insults. “Well, indubitably, the Neanderthal would resort to bodily harm and viol-”

Jay finally reached his breaking point, his grip on Reza’s collars tightening. At first, a small chuckle left his lips, which turned into a soft laugh before escalating into a full-out laugh.

This little shit annoyed him for the _last goddamned time_.

The students that had gathered around to crowd the both of them backed up, visibly unnerved by his laugh, knowing that he only laughed like that because he was beyond pissed.

(Some rumors were true - like this particular one).

When he was done, he breathed out and tilted his head to the side. A slow snake-like grin spread out on his face.

_**“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”** _

He grabbed Reza’s head forcefully with a single hand, and slammed it into the locker.

_CruNCH._

The sound of Reza’s head hitting the locker was harsher than before.

It was such a satisfying sound to the son of Jafar who reveled in physical violence. He pressed his fingers into the flesh of Reza’s face, his ring finger digging into the boy’s right eye with a _Splitch!_

Reza screamed, but Jay didn’t hear him.

 ** _'H̴e̷'̴s̵ ̷g̸o̶n̵n̶a̴ ̸f̷u̷c̷k̶i̶n̴g̷ ̸d̷i̶e̵ ̶f̴o̶r̷ ̵i̶n̴s̶u̴l̸t̶i̷n̸g̸ ̷h̶e̶r̸.̵ ̴’_**  

The muscles in Jay’s arm flexed as he slammed Reza’s head against the locker once more.

He did it again, ignoring his pained screams and the frightened noises of the students around him, growing more and more violent and wild as he continued. He proceeded to smash his head until he wasn’t holding anything more than what looked like the sad remains of a human skull. It didn’t even register to Jay that he was already dead until his bare knuckles hit metal. He was breathing heavily and the impact stung, but not enough to make him curse. He looked down at himself, Reza’s brain matter and blood stained his face, hand and the top part of his leather vest. It was also all over the locker. Finally his eyes trailed towards the floor, spotting the body of his recent victim.

Jay figured that in his blind rage, he must have dropped him. 

Oops. 

With his chest heaving, the boy stood there to catch his breath, before eventually coming back into himself. When he did, he was greeted with the sight of the remaining students cowering in fear. He grinned smugly. 

_Good._

_Fear me_ , he thought. 

If they wanted to see a messed up kid, Jay would show them. 

He'd show all of them just how unhinged he could be. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene is referenced directly in Chapter 1, "Something Wicked This Way Comes".
> 
> References for Language Spoken:  
> Arabic:  
> Ant sakhif min alqarf! = You fucking piece of shit!


	4. "This is Entertainment"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't talk shit if you can't back it up.
> 
> Alternatively, how to NOT survive the Isle.
> 
> Three years after the events of "The Fire and the Sea".

“Oh look at you… oh my, is that a _scar?_ ” Carmen Clayton, daughter of Clayton sneered.

“What an _eyesore_.” She continued, her dark eyes sizing up the victim of her verbal lashing, in disgust. “Then again, it does suit you, the scar. It makes you look even more _savage_ than you are.” She then laughed, a finger on her chin. “I would say ‘I wonder who gave that to you’, but I know already. We all know. It was Mal, wasn’t it?” She taunted. “The daughter of Maleficent?” She laughed again, causing the other girl to narrow her eyes in annoyance.  

“What’s it to you?” Vice, the daughter of Scar snarled out. “Why the _fuck_ do you even care?”

“I don’t. I just think it’s funny how you were wounded by someone as small and weak as her. But that makes me wonder..” She continued taunting, now tapping a finger against her cheek. “That would probably make you weaker by default, wouldn’t it?” She asked with faked curiosity that blatantly dripped with condescension.

“....” The thirteen year old immediately cracked her knuckles, walking closer to Carmen.

The daughter of Clayton didn’t back down -- in fact she wore an arrogant smirk.

She looked like her father. 

They were both ugly pieces of shit. 

Vice raised her chin at her, despite the fact that Carmen was an inch taller. Her eyes formed a glare, her lips pulled back into a snarl. “...Did you just fuckin’ call me _‘weak’,_ you flat-chested bitch?”

“I might have.” Carmen looked down at her, arms crossed over her chest. “What are you gonna do about it?” She mocked, leaning into Vice’s face, going as far as to stick out her tongue at the dark-skinned girl.

_“This.”_

Without hesitation, Vice grabbed both sides of the girl’s head and clamped her teeth down on her exposed tongue.

**_HARD._**

Carmen yelped in pain, and desperately put her hands on Vice’s to try and pry her off, but to no avail, since Vice’s grip on her face only tightened. Then suddenly in an unexpected turn of events, the lioness pulled her head back violently, pulling the pink muscle out with it. She released Carmen’s head, and spit out her tongue on the floor, which was covered in saliva and crimson fluid. It landed next to a nearby student that was standing by and flinched. When Vice looked back up, she saw Carmen’s frightened and pained expression at having her tongue ripped out.

“Aaaaahhhmmmffff,” was the only thing that Carmen could manage, since her hands were covering her mouth. Her hands and mouth were stained red as well, and bits of blood seeped through the gaps of her fingers, drip-dropping onto her dusty yellow shirt.

“That’s what the fuck I thought.” Vice hissed, raising her hands up in front of her face, her claws already extended like the deadly weapons they were. Carmen tried to back away from her, accidentally bumping into another student.

Usually when a fight broke out at Dragon Hall, a crowd would surround the combatants. A thick one -- one reason was well, who could resist a good match? And the other reason, more sinister:

_To make sure the other fighter doesn’t pussy out._

So Carmen found herself in a tough spot, since there were no openings, and none of the Villain Kids seemed to give enough of a shit that she could possibly die or get injured.

It was the natural, unspoken rule of the land - every person for themselves unless you’re in a crew.

And even then, _still_.

Survival of the strongest was what ruled the Isle.

The weak always got weeded out, whether by “natural” causes or otherwise. So watching each other get beat the shit out of, and possibly die was not only _sick entertainment_ for the inhabitants of the Isle, it was a ** _reminder;_** _this could be any of them._

Someone they knew.

Or y’know, that nobody from that one class they might have had together, once or twice.

Vice wore a sadistic grin on her face. “Are you going to put up a fight? Or are you going to _submit_ and be my new scratching post?”

At the question, the fair-skinned girl only made a noise that came off as a sad excuse of a snarl. Carmen’s dark brown eyes were narrowed in hatred, and for a minute, it looked like she wasn’t going to do anything. But she stepped forward, and sucked her lips into her mouth. She would have said something, but she had no tongue-- so she just clenched her fists on either side of her, and ran towards the enemy.

Vice didn’t move until the last second, so when she did, she sidestepped, allowing one of Carmen’s fists to fly past her face. As Carmen turned her head, Vice brought her hand up across the girl’s throat - four new marks appearing in her fair skin. Her grin grew wider upon seeing the girl’s lips form an ‘o’, and her eyes roll up to the ceiling.

As she stumbled, Vice grabbed her by the neck, and shoved her against the locker.

"Can't talk, can't even fight. Weak ass bitch." 

She shoved Carmen against the old, already-dented locker again, hearing the poor excuses of painful groans as Carmen’s head collided with it. From the four new marks on the girl’s throat oozed out sanguine liquid, which already had stained the attacker’s sharp nails. The muscles on Vice’s toned arm flexed subtly as she dug her nails into Carmen’s neck again, this time piercing further.

“Who’s the weakling now, bitch?!” 

Vice's nails cut into her flesh, into the meat under. More of the red fluid flowed free, and when Vice ruthlessly pulled her arm from her neck, it spurted out from the new wounds, similar to that of a water fountain. Her nose twitched as her lips were pulled back into a scowl. She held her head up, physically and metaphorically looking down at her like she was catshit on the side of the Isle streets. “People like you piss me off.” Her eyes became dull.

“Do us all a favor and just _die._ ”

“Aa-” Carmen didn’t get to finish her sentence, because Vice swiped at her throat again, and again, and _again._ The kids around her that were watching either spectated in silence or in over-excitement, leaving no other sort of reaction in between. When Vice was done, her face and hands were covered in blood and in her left hand, she was holding Carmen’s trachea. The smell of copper assaulted her senses, and she breathed heavily. She looked at the severed windpipe in her hand and threw it on the ground next to the lifeless body. With the fight over, Vice looked up to see a crowd of students. Her eyes were still dull, and she ignored the cheers of the kids who had just watched her murder someone yet _again_.

With a turn of her body, she looked down at her hands, clenching and unclenching them. She pushed her way through the crowd, though a hand on her shoulder got her attention.

“Hey there feisty,” Jay quipped. “Feel better now?”

 _“No.”_ Vice answered flatly.

“It wasn’t even a real fight." She scoffed with a _"keh"_. She allowed him to pull her closer to him by wrapping his arm around her shoulders. She placed her hand on top of the one that dangled off of her right shoulder, staining his right hand with blood.

“Most of the kids in Dragon Hall don’t know how to fight. If you want a real challenge, go down to Serpent Prep _._ ” He stated with a laugh, his other hand resting comfortably in his left pocket. There were some rusty coins in there and a small bag of half-eaten moldy cheese balls that he swiped from Carmen's body. 

“I’ll keep that in mind-- ....But how would you know that, though?” She asked him playfully.

“...I do things in my free time,” Jay answered slyly. “Let’s just leave it at that. Gotta keep myself entertained _somehow_ , Kitty." 

 


	5. "Not One of Us"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place a few days after the events of the previous chapter.

_BANG!_

A ear-spitting sound rang out in the marketplace, which frightened the vendors and the inhabitants present. Another bullet was fired into the air, which was accompanied by the sound of a man clearing his throat. The man stepped forward, lowering the still-hot, smoking gun. “Are you the one named _‘Scar’_?” The mustachioed man scowled, walking up to the other male, who looked unfazed by the “warning shots”.

“Who is asking?” The black-haired male responded. Scar looked relaxed, his neon-green eyes looking at the weapon attached to the man’s hand and back up to his face again. “Is something the matter?” He continued casually, stepping in front of his daughter. Scar folded his arms over his chest, watching the other man’s face twist up into an expression of anger and disgust.

“Don’t you _dare_ screw with me, you filthy _savage."_   Clayton, the Hunter spat, his scowl deepening. His teeth ground against each other. Clayton was a fair skinned man like his now late-daughter and son; the boy that was behind him as him. His brown hair was graying more and more on the sides, which made him look a bit older than he actually was. “You know as well as I do the reason I’m here. Your dirty, _uncivilized,_ ** _sad excuse_ ** for a hellspawn killed my own.”

“Hm?” Scar unwrapped an arm from himself to look at his nails. When Clayton had finished speaking, he looked up at the man’s face, seeing it contort in anger again. Clayton growled under his breath and lined up his gun with Scar’s face. The former lion pretended to yawn, pressing a hand to his mouth. “Are you done yet, poacher?” He asked, sounding bored.

“While yes, it is … rather _unfortunate_ that your kid was cut down, perhaps it was your fault for raising such a weak offspring in the first place?” An eyebrow raised. “You stand here and call me a savage, but who is the one that came into the marketplace with a gun, shooting all about like a _madman_?” Scar then let both arms rest besides him.

There was a click that came from the gun, and Clayton stepped closer, putting the barrel of the gun to Scar’s forehead.

The former lion still looked unimpressed. Scar’s eyes were dull, and lifeless, and his lips were in a straight line. The dark-skinned man merely moved a loc that dangled from the front of his face to behind his ear. “Move that primitive weapon out of my face, you low-life--”

“Do _NOT_ talk back to me if you’re one of us, you dirty lion in human skin!” Clayton roared. “You and dirt-colored spawn are beneath me, beneath my foot, beneath even the worms under this hell of a prison island!”

Scar’s eyes darkened over as a hand covered the left side of his face. Ominously, he smirked, showing his row of teeth, fangs included. 

He laughed, and then rubbed at his temple gently. “Right, and this is coming from the man that’s too much of a coward to walk around without a weapon. If I’m not wrong, you only carry around that gun because Shere Khan came close to eating you for breakfast once, right…? You’re a frightened little child masquerading as a damn man, a truly worthless, lowly, little worm. You’re beneath _me,_ Clayton.” Scar stated. “You’re a pathetic excuse for a villain. An amateur, really.”

A snicker came from behind Scar, his daughter, Sauda. (He refused to use the nickname she got from the streets, though it more because he was attached to the name he gave her). Scar raised his chin at the Hunter and crinkled his nose at disgust. The smell rolling off of Clayton was that of gunpowder, alcohol and sweat.

Though the smell that rolled off of the boy behind him… was of shame, sweat and something else that he couldn’t exactly put a finger on. Whatever it was, it smelled disgusting.  _‘And he calls me the fucking savage.’_

Clayton didn’t like the insinuation that he was inferior to Scar, not only because he was a lion previously, but because he was _African_ \--  and anything from that continent was beneath him, too.

 _Like the gorillas, other animals_ , and the people.

All of them were dirty things that Clayton hated.

_Walking profit that escaped his fingers._

Looking at Scar reminded him of Tarzan. That damn _savage_ … how he sided with those filthy people, Clayton would never understand. And now he was confined to an island with _no way out_ , no way to get to the outside world, or be rich again or to hunt anything else than the regular, same people and rare animals that were on the Isle.

Scar’s words rubbed him in the wrong way, and his teeth ground against each other to the point where they were beginning to ache. “You..” He snarled out. “You’re not a real man! Burn in Hell!” Clayton’s finger wrapped around the trigger of the gun, and with an angered and frustrated yell, he pulled the trigger three times.

Silence fell.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” Scar clicked his tongue disapprovingly. He blinked, largely unscathed -- there was a very thin line that went across his his left cheek where a bullet grazed him. The other two missed him entirely, because Scar had disarmed him just in time. The fair-skinned man was beneath Scar, an arm twisted behind his back, Scar’s knee pressing into the middle of his back as well. The gun skidded over to Vice, and she picked it up, twirling it around her finger. Scar’s other hand grabbed at Clayton’s hair.

“ _T_ _hat’s enough, you racist_.” Scar’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and Colton’s eyes widened as he watched his dad go down.

 _‘Shit.. I didn’t even see..’_   The boy thought to himself. _‘That was way too fast..’_

“I don’t care what you think about my condition. I don’t care if I’m in this pathetic body. I only care that I have to live on an island with someone as pathetic and disgusting like you. If you haven’t noticed, you _imbecile_ , a _savage_ is what you lost to. A _savage_ is what got one over on you. And guess what? You are beneath me, a  _savage._ Though, you really mean _‘African’,_ don’t you?,” Scar smashed his head into the cobble stoned street below, then bringing his head up again roughly.

“If I were you, I’d _watch my damn mouth._ Racists like you make me sick _. Kidudu cha chini._ ” Scar yanked his head again, making the man groan in pain before he slammed his head into the street again. When Scar got up, he added in a harsh stomp to the man’s back for good measure, relishing in his pained groan. “If you have any pride left, I suggest you swallow it before _mouthing off to me again._ Lion or human, _I will end you._ ” Scar snarled, a scowl gracing his face. “A side note: You smell _disgusting_. Take a shower while you’re at it.” He then backed away from the man, turning his back.

Clayton groaned again, feeling pain all around his head, his arm and back.

“Don’t talk to my dad that way, you ugly--!” Colton spoke up, scowling. He found his voice, growling in frustration. He picked up a nearby stone to throw at Scar’s back, but was stopped by a clicking noise, and something tearing through his flesh. Then he fell unceremoniously on his ass, cursing and clutching one of his bleeding knees.

Vice put her lips together and blew the smoke from the end of the barrel, spinning the gun around her finger again. “Don’t talk to _mine_ that way, you pussy ass brat.”

Her eyes were also dull, lifeless as a small grin was painted on her face, taking in the image of the boy who writhed in pain.

“....Actually, it’s actually kind of _cute_ how you’re laying flat on your back. _Right_ next to your dear ol' dad. Oh, that reminds me. Wanna know how your darling sister died?” She chuckled darkly, walking up to Colton, who was still seething, his hands around his left knee. “She died without her tongue in her mouth. _All alone_. You weren’t there to save her. I wonder why?” She teased, as she squatted down, her arms resting inside her thighs. She sniffed the air around him, picking up something.

She leaned in closer, and sniffed again, as Scar turned back around to see his daughter taunt Clayton’s offspring.

“I also wonder why you smell like her. But then again..” Vice slid the weapon under his chin, raising up his face to make him look at her. “You both look like each other too…  Twins, huh?” She laughed again, leaning her face in closer. Her sharp teeth were visible. “--but that’s not it. That’s not it at all. People who are related have similar smells. _Not the same one.”_

 _“_ S- so what…? Why the hell do you care…?” Colton scowled.

“Oh, I don’t.. But your daddy might not be too happy with that. If he gives enough of a shit about you, of course.” Vice looked over at Clayton who had began to get up. His face was bruised around his cheek and nose area, and there were small sharp stones that had lodged themselves in his skin. He was lucky that it was Scar and not _her_ , because she would have done worse. However, being humiliated in front of people was enough for Clayton.

His son, on the other hand… Vice wasn’t done yet.

So she looked back to the boy she was taunting. “I’m really surprised your father doesn’t know.” Vice told Colton, and she grinned. “How many times have you done it with her? You know, your sister I mean.”

His face paled, and his jaw dropped. “I.. how did-”

“You _what_ ?!” Clayton turned to his son, eyes blazing. “What is the African talking about?”

Vice ignored him. “Go on, _say it_ . She’s already dead so you might as well. No point in hiding how you did nasty things with her. Poor you.. You must have been so  _lonely_ to resort to _f_ ucking your own _sister_. I wonder if it was willingly.”

 _‘So that was the disastrous stench I picked up. Hah. Look at the pot calling the kettle black.’_ Scar thought to himself. He grinned, proud of his progeny.

“I’d never-- no, No! Shut up! You don’t know me!” He snapped, smacking the weapon out of her hand in frustration, scooting away from her. He winced in pain again, remembering that he was shot in the knee. He tried to stand up, but stumbled. He backed away from her, terrified. _‘How did she know that? Nobody should have known that, I told nobody, she wouldn’t--’_

“You goddamn _filthy ingrate!_ ” Clayton spat, his brown eyes full of hatred and disgust.

“I-”

“ _Shut your mouth!_ I don’t want to hear any sorry excuses. _You repulse me!_ ” Clayton continued, stalking over to his defenseless son. Colton tried to back away, his fear becoming more and more clear as day.

He tried to get away, but Clayton had already been angered, and embarrassed by the events of earlier -- he needed a punching bag. He needed someone to vent his frustrations on. Colton knew that look in his dad’s eyes, and it was never good. It meant angry fists and beatings were going to come his way, and now without his sister, he’d get the full brunt of it instead of half.

He let out a scared yelp. “Get away from me!” Colton yelled. “Stop! Dad, I’m sorry-- don’t-!” He was interrupted by Clayton grabbing him by the hair and dragging him along as he walked away from Scar and Vice.

A hand on Vice’s head softly patted her. “Let’s go, Sauda. We’ve still dinner to make.” He said detaching himself from the situation.

Vice stuck the gun into the side of her pants, then put her shirt over it, concealing it from view. “I almost forgot we were here for that...” She laughed lightly to herself, already putting the prior events out of her mind.

“Can we not get the usual beans we have, _baba_? I’m getting tired of them..” She groaned.

Scar moved his hand to Vice’s shoulder and softly squeezed. There were slight wrinkles under his eyes as he smiled.

“I’m proud of you, so yes. You get to choose what we pick up today.”

“Yes!” She hissed under her breath.

Both of them laughed and turned around, continuing their shopping as if nothing happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References to Language Spoken:  
> Swahili  
> Baba = Father.  
> Kidudu cha chini = Lowly worm.
> 
> Also we changed the name of "Clay" to Colton because we thought Colton was a better name.


	6. "Rotten to the Core"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Re-writing the first movie. 
> 
> We've added more depth to the Villain Parents and interactions with the Villain Kids.

“You four have been chosen to go to Auradon Prep!”

_“What?!”_

“Fuck outta here,” a boy scoffed.

“Ah-ah, language,” the woman cooed, leaning forward to tap her finger against the boy’s nose. (He violently avoided her touch, and gave her a death glare that would have frightened even the _Three Good Fairies,_ then flipped her off). The hired muscle that was behind said boy moved in to restrain him, (or try to) -- but was stopped by Maleficent as she waved the adult off, dismissing the situation.

The boy was a fiesty one, wasn’t he?

“Moving on, no, it’s not a joke. You four, though I don’t know _how_ … have been selected to go. It’s the talk of the town! I’m surprised you haven’t heard. It was on the television when Princy-boy decided to broadcast it!”

She ignored the latter part, not impressed. “I’m _not_ going to some… boarding school filled to the brim with prissy pink princesses,” the girl with purple hair held her ground. Her lips formed a frown, and she crossed her arms over her shoulders.

“--And perfect princes…?” The blue-haired girl asked hopefully, with something shiny in her eyes that might have even been sparkles. Her hands clasped together in front of her chest where her heart was and she was snapped out of her dreamy reverie with a harsh look from the green-eyed, purple-haired girl next to her.

“Yeah, and I don’t know any of these fucks.” The brown-haired boy with dark brown eyes stated bluntly, looking around at the two girls and other boy that was practically cowering behind the blue-haired one named Evie. “--’sides, I’ve seen the shit that they wear on the Auradon Network Channel. Royal blue and gold? Not my colors. You wouldn’t even catch me _dead_ in that.  I _like_ my leather, thank you very much.”

The boy named Carlos spoke up timidly from behind Evie, his arm raised. (It was a habit; he didn’t get to speak unless spoken to, and that was even at home).

“Uh.. um… M-my mom said that they allow dogs over there in Auradon? I-is that true? S-she said th-that they’re rabid ...pack animals who uh,” he swallowed fearfully. “..eat little boys who misbehave..”

Jay, the only other boy in the group scoffed. "Wimp." 

Carlos frowned. “I heard that..” He wrapped his arms around himself, and weakly glared at him.

Jay, however laughed to himself.

The fair-skinned girl ignored her surroundings with an exaggerated eye roll, blowing a strand of her dark purple hair from her face, putting a hand on her hip. “Look mom, _we’re not going_.”

Maleficent scoffed, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes. She raised her staff and opened her arms with a flourish. “You’re thinking small, pumpkin!” Her dark purple and black robes billowed out as twirled in a circle. “It’s all about world domination!” She declared with a mischievous glint in her eye. For a couple of seconds, she held Mal’s gaze and then turned her icy glare towards her three henchmen. “Henchmen! Let’s go!” She turned on the balls of her feet, her robes flapping in the wind once more and walked briskly.

“MAAAAL!!” She yelled impatiently.

 Behind her, Evie, Jay, and Carlos seemed stuck in their spots - not that they were frozen in fear, but in disbelief, rather. With another exaggerated eye roll, Mal sighed, and reluctantly followed Maleficent. The three henchmen situated behind the children roughly brushed against them as they fell in line with Mistress of All Evil and her offspring.

Carlos rubbed at his shoulder, and Evie frowned, while Jay once again, glared at them upon being touched without his permission.

It was also him that broke the silence.

“....I wonder how Maleficent would feel if one of her lackeys lost a hand.”

Evie turned her head to him, her face scrunched together in a concerned manner. “Their hands? But they look fine. Why would they-” The look on Jay’s face convinced her to not finish that question. She wet her lips and then looked down at the ground. Glancing up, she realized that Maleficent and Mal were far ahead -- she wasn’t sure if they were supposed to follow. Her silent question was asked when Carlos spoke up;

“Um.. I .. I think she’s waiting for us.” He pointed in the dark fairy’s direction, and sure enough, there she was, staring at the three of them, waiting for them to hurry up. Though he was apprehensive, he didn’t start walking until Evie did. Jay followed behind them, lazily.

(Though it was really to see what he could pickpocket from Carlos - he was able to swipe some rusty coins, a keychain, and a ballpoint pen).

Carlos didn’t notice because he was too busy trying to calm his nerves. Maleficent was frightening, but if he was going where he thought they were, then his mother, more so..

With some quick strides, they easily caught up with Maleficent and the rest.

\---

**Some odd thirty five minutes later, inside Bargain Castle:**

Maleficent’s feet were up on a sturdy, brown coffee table, as she made herself comfortable. She meticulously filed her nails, then blew on them. “...So, am I clear? You are to go to that school, no ifs, and or buts _._ You _will_ find Fairy Godmother, AND you _will_ bring me the wand.” She looked up from her nails, and shrugged. “It should be easy for you all. Especially _you,_ missy,” she pointed a green painted nail at Mal.

Mal sighed, wishing that her eyes could roll into the back of her head and stay stuck there. She wished that her mother wouldn’t have to rub her constant failures in her face. She also wished that she wouldn’t do it _in front of people._ She sighed again, glaring at the woman who sat so leisurely on a chair in front of her. “What’s in it for us?” She asked, putting on a straight-face, like she’s taught herself to do.

Maleficent arched an eyebrow, making a face at Mal. “Us? Oh. Oh, right, right,” she corrected herself without missing a beat.  “Matching thrones, crowns so bright to blind your enemies-”

“Um.. e-excuse me-” Carlos had raised his hand again. “I.. I think Mal meant uh, us.” He motioned to the four of them with an unsure thumb. “You.. did mean all of us, right?” His answer was confirmed with a nod from Mal. He was able to breathe easier.

Evie assuringly patted his arm, and Jay had walked away to the opposite side of the villains on Maleficent’s right, which served as the “kitchen” part of the castle. There were various pots and pans dangling off of hangers of which were attached to a silver rack -- no doubt a steal Maleficent got during one of the Isle’s “auction week” deals. There was also a naturally tanned-skinned man just as brown as Jay was, who was stirring a pot on the stove.  

Maleficent looked at the teenagers and tossed the nail file over a shoulder with a sigh. She beckoned to Mal with a finger. When Mal stepped forward, her face was grabbed roughly between the index and thumbs of Maleficent’s right hand.

“Mom, ow--”

“Do you enjoy watching innocent people suffer?” Maleficent questioned.

Mal scoffed. “I mean.. Yeah. Of course. Who doesn’-”

She let her go and then leaned back, getting to her feet. “Then fetch me the wand! If I have it, I could cause that and so much more… And bend the forces of good, evil and _every_ miserable person to my will!” She raised her hands in the air for emphasis.

There was a low croaking sound that came behind the woman, which made her turn her head.

“I agree with the bird. Don’t you mean _‘our’_ will?” Another woman perked up with a sigh, reminding the fellow villainess firmly, but not forcefully. She then huffed, putting the golden mirror in her hand, down on the table. The voice came from none other than the Evil Queen, mother of Evie.

To the villainess’ right, stood a turquoise-colored refrigerator and a golden brown-skinned woman with curly half-black, half-white hair who pointed at Evil Queen with a red-leather gloved finger in agreement.

Jay and the man both turned to look at Maleficent - but neither said anything to Maleficent or each other.

Maleficent looked up from Diablo, then to Evil Queen, Cruella De Vil, then Jafar and corrected herself.

“Our will, I suppose.”

Quickly switching the topic, she snapped her fingers and set her eyes on her daughter. She put her arms down, and added a little playful wink. “Oh, and if you so much as refuse or disobey me, I will make sure that I rid myself of you _however I see fit._ ” The raven croaked again in agreement, and Maleficent gave it a wicked grin. Diablo spread its wings and flew to its master’s shoulder. It was greeted with gentle petting; a surprisingly affectionate motion from the Dark Fairy.

It was something that Mal was envious over, but pushed down because her mother hated weakness, and how clingy she used to be as a kid. The sixteen year old was already used to the usual threats that she would get from her; ranging from the threat of homelessness to the more extreme threats of torture with the use of iron material (she never understood why iron, _specifically_ , but she didn’t want to find out). Mal stared into the eyes of both her mother and her _beloved sidekick,_ already feeling the disappointment radiating from the both of them. Instead of resigning herself to it, she squared her shoulders and again, assumed a straight-face, like she taught herself to do. “But-”

No sooner than she had said that, Maleficent had stood up and loomed over her. Maleficent's strong, sudden, stern glare held her, tore into the depths of her psyche, and every time Mal thought she grew a resistance to it, was proven wrong with each “staring contest” they had. The girl’s hard exterior began to crumble, even though she tried her hardest - she silently bit the inside of her mouth, her strain obvious. On the other hand, Maleficent stared and stared without any sort of visible strain. Within a few minutes, her victory was assured, which resulted in Mal breathing harshly and holding onto the black railing in front of her mother's favorite chair, wiping the sweat off of her brows.

Maleficent smirked proudly, as she boasted to herself. “I won.” With a chuckle, she looked away from Mal and went back to petting Diablo.

Mal groaned to herself, folding her arms over her chest. She huffed, the sting of losing- _yet again_ \- reminding her of all of her past failures. “Whatever,” she muttered, trying to convince herself that she wasn't bothered by it. (She was failing). She turned her back to Maleficent, deciding to look everywhere else but her for the moment.

“Evie! My little darling,” Evil Queen called. The blue-haired girl walked over to her mother quickly with a wide smile, and took the seat across from her.

Queen Grimhilde was a beautiful woman before death; before she had the form of a wrinkled, old haggard woman, she was pale-skinned with green eyes, with red lips and full eyebrows. She was still pale-skinned, but upon closer look, it was clear that she had aged slightly because there were wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. She still wore red lipstick, and she retained her green eyes, and slim figure - though this was only because Grimhilde rarely ate, due to her own obsession with her physical appearance - a habit that she had successfully passed to Evie.

Besides, who would need to eat when you’re the fairest of them all?

“Now,” she started, with her hands interlocked in front of her. She put her chin on the back of her palms with her elbows on the table, and leaned forward, raising her chin up at her daughter. “You know what you must do, correct? Find yourself a prince with a big castle -- with a wing _for mich,_ ” she referred to herself in German. 

“And lots-”

“And lots, of mirrors!” They both exclaimed in unison.

Evie’s smile hadn’t left her face. It widened until it was ear to ear, and she clasped her hands in front of her chest as she let out an ecstatic laugh at the thought of marrying a prince and inheriting a huge castle. Suddenly, Evie’s left arm was smacked harshly by her mother.

“No smiling, I told you that. You’ll catch wrinkles.”

Evie’s smile died and she looked down at the table, resisting the urge to apologize - her mother hated that.

“And you know what to do when you encounter a girl who is more pretty than you, _richtig_?”

“Take out her heart and stick it in a box,” Evie recited perfectly, risking a glance up at her mother. If Queen Grimhilde would allow herself to smile, she would have right then and there. Instead, she only purred,

_“Ausgezeichnet.”_

Watching their interactions from her chair, Maleficent only rolled her eyes, and sighed. Ceasing in the petting of her beloved raven, she went back to filing her nails after she picked the nail file back up.

“Well, maybe you’re fine with sending your spawns off to the other side, but not me!” Cruella proclaimed, beckoning to Carlos, who reluctantly came over to her.

He could stand to be far away from her, but up close, he was reminded of how terrifying she was, even when she wasn’t doing anything necessarily threatening towards him. Cruella was a woman who was darker than Carlos in complexion and her breath usually smelled like cigarettes, but most recently, old bark.

(She’d taken to smoking wood instead, due to the lack of ‘quality’ contraband on the Isle - King Adam was strict on cracking down on illegal goods being shipped out which was ironic, since they still were fine with sending leftover everything else to the Isle...).

Some of her teeth were stained yellow, and her dark beady eyes, high cheekbones and dramatic makeup just downright sent chills down his spine. Looking at Cruella (much less having to smell her breath) was unpleasant and served as the source of nearly all of his nightmares. (It also didn’t make things better that she was half a head taller than him - it felt like she was always towering over him, belittling him, _mocking him_ ).

“Besides, they’re not taking my Carlos, I’d miss having him around.”

That shouldn’t have caught the boy off-guard, but it did. He looked at her with a slightly open mouth and curious eyes. He knew it was too-good to be true, but still, he asked, hopefully, “You.. would? You’d really miss me, mom?” He asked meekly, fiddling with his thumbs. He’d never call Cruella his mother or any of the variation, because she despised it. She told him on numerous occasions to only refer to her by name, due to the fact that in her eyes, he wasn’t her son, just a servant in the house. An errand boy that does just that -- runs errands. It was also why he slept in a dog cage as opposed to an actual bed. Evie had given him a pillow and blanket some months back, but Cruella had found them and threw them away. So it was back to an uncomfortable, tiny dog cage…

She had stressed to him many times over that he was not worthy enough to be her son. He wasn’t worthy enough to have friends, or dreams. Whatever self-esteem that could have developed, didn’t, because Cruella crushed it. _She crushed everything._

Cruella’s face soured upon hearing ‘mom’ leaving the boy’s mouth. Her right hand latched onto the boy’s left shoulder and squeezed suddenly which made the boy’s eyes widen. He winced in pain.

“I’m sorry, m- Cruella! I’m sorry-” He whimpered pathetically.

At that point, Maleficent rolled her eyes harder, drowning out the cries of the pathetic little boy. None of the villains seemed to care that Carlos was being abused in front of them and neither did any of the kids, except for Evie. She wanted to frown, but she was still sitting right across from her mother, who would have yelled at her in German like she would occasionally, when she displeased her.

Cruella’s death grip only let up when the boy was near tears, and when she got tired of him asking for mercy. She scowled, and barked, “Get your sorry ass off the floor!” The light-skinned boy quickly got to his feet and recovered, blinking back his tears; he never cried, and he prided himself on that - from his experience, tears never made anything better.

Tears made things worse, and giving Cruella any type of satisfaction wasn’t something he wanted to do, but couldn’t help because he was just so damn _weak_. 

“Besides,” Cruella continued, as if nothing happened. She patted his shoulder (the same one) in a rare gesture of what could be considered “soothing”. (The boy tensed, so it had the opposite effect). “Who would touch up my roots, fluff my fur and scrape the bunions off of my feet?”  

His shoulders slumped. _Of course_. He grabbed his arm, fingers tightly gripping the bicep of his right arm. “...maybe a new school wouldn’t be so bad..” He muttered to himself, looking at the ground.

Cruella only shook her head, moving her hand to the side of his face, watching him tense up even more. “Carlos, Carlos, Carlos,” she cooed. “Did you already forget? They have dogs in Auradon.”

Remembering that, he forgot all about his mother for a second and shuddered violently. “U-uh uh-uh!” His head whipped around to Maleficent who was still filing her nails. “I-I’m not going anymore, forget it!”

....Which earned him a sigh from the Dark Fairy, and Queen Grimhilde. Evie again, wanted to frown but couldn’t. Mal ignored him, while Jay was too busy filling his mouth.  

“Jay isn’t going either,” Jafar declared with a cold look in his eyes.

He hadn’t looked up from his stirring pot. Mostly because his bastard son, Jay kept stealing pieces of food from it whenever he turned his head. He was close to smacking his adolescent progeny across the face with the wooden spoon he had in his hand. “I need him to stock the shelves in my store.” Silently, Jay raised an eyebrow at his father and swallowed the piece of meat that was in his mouth. Right after that, Jafar took Jay by the arm, and pushed him back. “Show me what you scored,” he demanded in Arabic, and a hushed voice.

Roughly yanking his arm back from his father, he regarded Jafar with the same cold look in his own eyes.

Routinely, the seventeen year old pulled out the things he looted from his vest. It was surprising the amount of things that he could fit in there, and it made Jafar wonder if he had sewn in hidden pockets without his knowledge. Though the older man was way more interested in _what_ were in the pockets, rather than the pockets _themselves_.

Jay produced various items; a silver rectangular object, a ballpoint pen, rusty silver coins, a hairpin, three cans of spray paint, someone’s keys, a silver pitcher that was in good shape somehow, and a key-chain -- none of which captured Jafar’s attention. All of the items thus far were lazily discarded on the ground besides his feet. It wasn’t until Jay took out a long, golden object that Jafar’s face lit up. It was the first time that Jay saw his father wear an expression other than disgust. His dark russet eyes widened momentarily in an epiphany. In moments like these, Jay wondered what went through his mind, why he even bothered hoping.

But for the moment, Jay kept his pessimism to himself, waiting for his dad to recognize how futile his attempt was, as he vigorously rubbed the lamp. Jafar’s lips were painted in an excited, toothy grin which made him look more ‘mad’ than usual. Jafar wore ragged robes, with pointy shoulders, turban and all. (He tried to make them look like the extravagant robes he wore in his prime when he was Grand Vizier of Agrabah). 

To everyone else, he may be tall, dark and dare anyone even say it, “handsome”, if not for his delusions of grandeur, hot-temper, and his foul mouth (being on the other end of Jafar’s profane rants was the only reason that the boy even picked up Arabic, much less understood or _spoke_ it), but to Jay, he was simply a man who lived in the same place as him.

He would forget that they were related until he saw Jafar’s face, or until he was called _“boy!”_ or something worse.

He was just a foolish, delusional man.

One that he got tired of watching.

Jay sighed finally. “It doesn’t work, old man.” He crossed his arms over his chest, looking away from his father. “Barrier, remember? No magic.”

Jafar scowled and instantly threw the lamp over his shoulder. It hit the side of the fridge, nearly colliding with Cruella’s backside.

(She flinched, and looked over her shoulder at the offending object).

“...yalaha min khaybat 'amal,” Jafar hissed, going back to ignoring his son.

Jay shrugged, and decided to walk around the area, since he was done being the family disappointment. He didn’t care about what his father thought of him anymore, especially not when Jafar made it clear that he hated his guts. Unluckily for Jafar, the feeling was more than mutual.

So while Jay didn’t want to go to Auradon, at least he’d be somewhere his dad wouldn’t dance on his fucking nerves.

The only thing he didn’t like was that he’d be leaving someone special behind… He uncrossed his arms, and kicked at an object at the ground at that thought.

“And Evie can’t leave until I get rid of this forming unibrow,” Queen Grimhilde said casually, ignoring the girl’s worried squeal. Evie, with a shaky hand touched her forehead, feeling around for the so-called offending hairs above the space between her eyes.

“Uggggggh!” Maleficent finally gave in; the annoyance of the various villain parents grating on her last nerves.

“What in great magics is wrong with you all?!” The nail file that she had in her hand snapped in half and she rose to her feet, standing at full height. She swiveled to her right, and grabbed Mal by the arm roughly, pulling her up. Mal stumbled, falling into a chair nearby, with slightly widened eyes.

“People used to cower at the mention of our names!” She emphasized with her fists that shook in the air.

This got the attention of Cruella, Jafar, and the Evil Queen, who was having her own eyebrows plucked by Evie. Carlos flinched, and swallowed silently, inching ever so slightly closer to his mother. Jay, who was a few feet away his father, watched her with bored, uninterested eyes.

 _“For 40 years_ , I have searched for a way off this island!” She slammed her hands on the table that Mal sat at, making the purple-haired girl flinch.

“ _For 40 years_ , they have robbed us of our revenge!” Maleficent pointed an accusing finger at the Queen, “Revenge on Snow White and her horrible, deplorable little men!”

“Ow,” The woman muttered, sadly making the mistake of turning her head when Evie plucked out another eyebrow hair.

“Revenge on Aladdin and his lowly genie!” She turned her head to Jafar, who’s eyes flashed dangerously.

“I-!”

“ _Cool it_ ,” Jay said flatly, not looking at him. He always got heated whenever Aladdin was mentioned.

Maleficent fiercely walked towards her left, and set her sights on Cruella, pointing a finger at her as well. “Revenge on every sneaky Dalmation that _escaped your clutches!_ ”

Cruella pointed back at the Dark Fairy and chuckled, “Oh no they didn’t!” She then squeezed the stuffed animal that was sewn into her black and white fur jacket. “They didn’t get this one!” She cackled. “Not my baby!” Carlos, who was cowering besides his mother shivered unpleasantly.

Mal, who sat on the table, still only rolled her eyes.

“And I, Maleficent!” The Mistress of All Evil slapped her own chest with a hand, raising her chin up dramatically, and puffing her chest out proudly. “..will have revenge on that treacherous _‘Aurora’,_ and her relentless little prince.” Maleficent crossed over to Evil Queen and then clapped her hands together. “Villains!” Again, this got the attention of the Villain Parents, who all looked at Maleficent, waiting for her to finish. “Our day has come… E.Q! Hand your offspring the magic mirror.”

As she did so, Evie looked down at the small mirror bordered by gold. There were some pieces missing - as if this was only a little shard of it.

Questioningly, she asked, “...is this all of it?”

“It’s not what it used to be, I’ll admit,” Queen Grimhilde sighed reluctantly. “But it will help you find things, so it’s better than nothing.”

“Ah! That reminds me! I need to give mine the spell book… Oh, ugh, where did I put it?” She turned around, and looked at the fridge. She remembered that she placed it on the table next to it. Maleficent bent down, and picked it up. “Mal! Get over here! Now!” At her mother’s orders, she found herself speedwalking over.

Standing over her mother’s shoulder, she was reminded of how different they were; Maleficent was half a head taller than Mal, and had high cheekbones, a wide nose, and full lips. They also didn’t share the same skin tone; Mal was lighter than her. Unlike the other villains, the only real sign of aging she exhibited was her occasional forgetfulness. Physically, she still looked young, though if one were to look closer, they would see bags forming under her eyes. It most likely was insomnia, which was why the evil fairy stressed to Mal to never disturb her when getting her “beauty sleep”.  

For Mal, this was her first time seeing her parent not look as she usually did; _displeased._ A rare smile was painted on the woman’s lips. “It will work on Auradon… where there is an abundance of magic. This was my very first spellbook,” she announced, just as Mal began to reach for it. “And now, it is yours.” She held the book away from her. “--As long as you do exactly as you’re told.” She then shoved the book into Mal’s chest, which made her flinch and blink rapidly. Mal delicately held the book in her hands as Maleficent then looked away from her. _“Villains!”_

There was a chorus of “hm?” and “huh”s that came from Cruella, Grimhilde and Jafar. Evie had stood up, along with her mother. She looked over the older woman’s shoulders, at Mal’s spellbook. Carlos did the same with Cruella except that he was in front of her. Jay and Jafar watched their interactions from their respective spots.

“Everyone out!” She placed a hand on Mal’s shoulder. “I need to talk to _this one_ alone.” Maleficent looked Mal over, then turned her gaze to the other visitors of her castle. “Well, go on! Go! Shoo!” She waved them away with her other hand when they didn’t move quick enough for her liking.

Eventually, they started moving -- some of them grumbled, others sighed, or stay silent. The end result was the same-- when they all left, Mal was only left with her mother, Maleficent. The fairy looked at her daughter, and slid her hand down to her arm, pulling her along to the balcony. When Maleficent released her, she closed the windows, and faced Mal, making her feel smaller in comparison. Diablo was had remained quiet, flew off of his mistress’ shoulder and landed on one of the brick pillars near her.

Mal swallowed, mentally preparing herself for whatever … ‘talk’ her mother had planned for her; whatever it was, it couldn’t be good if she wanted to talk alone..

\----

A day or so later:

The Villain Parents gathered in front of Bargain Castle.

“Ugh..” Evil Queen complained. “Smells like common folk.” She scrunched up her nose, but then remembered that she didn’t want wrinkles, so she fanned her flushed, ivory face with her royal blue sleeve, instead. Evie’s blue tresses bounced up and down as she happily jogged past her mother, putting her duffel bag into the trunk of the sleek, black limo. She was the first one to hop inside, disappearing into it with an excited giggle. She couldn’t stop thinking about princes, and inheriting a big castle. It scared her that she would be leaving her mother, but it also excited her -- she wondered how it would be on the other side of the barrier.

“Carlos! Carlos, get your ass back here!” Cruella screeched. The freckled, light-skinned boy ducked under her, throwing a black garbage bag into the trunk of the car, narrowly missing Cruella’s clutches. He dove into the car, his own peach-complexioned face flushed with pink undertones from the sudden exertion of energy. He had to be quick because Cruella would never let him leave otherwise. When the boy successfully went into the car, Cruella scowled, throwing a piece of old bark at him. “Damn _ingrate_!”

The next one to enter was Mal who was carrying two bags; one of which, was a backpack, the other a suitcase. She handed the suitcase to the man in the gray suit. She held onto the black backpack, and paused at the entrance of the car door. She stopped, and hesitantly looked up at the balcony - her mother’s favorite place in the castle besides her room. Maleficent’s icy cold glare was stern, and she brought up her index and middle fingers to her eyes, then at Mal’s eyes, which was her way of saying, _“I’m watching you. Don’t fuck up.”_

Mal nodded in silent understanding and sighed, going into the limo. Mal rubbed her left arm in an attempt to try to alleviate the pain. It felt like it was bruised, even through her leather jacket.  

\---

 _‘_ _I can’t believe that I’m leaving the Isle. But why do I have to go with those three…? Carlos? He’s a spineless coward. He’d probably be the first one to flake. He’s not even useful outside of making stupid things. Evie has a killer fashion sense, but how is that supposed to help me rule Auradon? Forget it. Jay? ---UGH. Don’t even get me started… He gives me the creeps as much as I hate to think about it. He’s crazy. Enough said._

_Oh well.. It looks like I have nobody but myself. Like always. At least this way, I won’t be weak and soft-hearted like my dad... Maybe she’ll finally accept me when I get this stupid wand. How hard could it be? Infiltration, backstabbing, lying, all basic villainy 101. Maybe mom’s right. Should be easy, shouldn’t i-- oh, this door..’ Mal blinked, her light green eyes looking at the locked wooden door in front of her. She shifted the weight of her backpack around so that she could try and touch the lock._

_CROAKKKK!_

_Mal jumped back, jolted by the sudden noise. There was a black raven that noisily screeched at her, a noise that bounced off of the castle walls. Mal glared at the bird, and tried to shush it, but to no avail. Diablo had already made too much noise, which alerted Maleficent. Mal heard her mother’s footsteps, and she momentarily froze. ‘Shit-!’ When her mother appeared, Mal didn’t try to move; she should have -- but didn’t. She hesitated a second too long._

_“What are you doing with that door?” Maleficent demanded, her eyes flashing dangerously._

_“N-nothing--!”_

_Maleficent’s eyes narrowed, then hardened, something swimming beneath her offended eyes. It was a rare emotion, something that Mal didn’t recognize. It was a mixture of sadness and hurt. Maleficent’s skinny hands pinched Mal’s ear, and twisted it harshly. She dragged the girl away from the door, suddenly then grabbing her by the arm. “Get out of my castle,” she hissed. “GET OUT!” She yelled, roughly pushing the girl towards the staircase leading outside._

_Mal stumbled over her feet, and tripped down the stairs._

_She quickly regained her footing-- glad that nobody was able to see and mock her. She huffed. “What the hell..? What’s her problem? It’s just a fucking room anyways...” Mal said, getting herself up from the stairs. ‘But why does she care about the room, more than… her own daughter..?’ She swallowed, almost afraid of the answer. She shook her head and sighed, pushing it out of her head as she walked out of the door leading out of the old castle._

_\---_

The last one to be entering the limo was Jay.

Jafar had nothing to say to his son, so he kept quiet. He was glad that he’d be getting out of his hair for once and for all. He could forget his son in peace. And Jay, vice versa. He took off his red beanie, looking both ways as he threw it down, effortlessly stealing the hood ornament of the limo. Swiftly, he put it back on with a sly grin on his face. He carried nothing, because Jafar had put his bag in the trunk beforehand. However, before he could enter the car, there was a hand on his shoulder.

“Who the--” He questioned, but was quickly cut off by someone’s voice -- a familiar voice that he knew all too well.

“So,” the newcomer smoothly continued, with an arched eyebrow. “You were gonna leave me all alone without saying goodbye?” Her claws lightly raked against the skin on his upper arm playfully. “That’s rude, y’know,” she purred.

His eyes looked her up and down and his grin only widened. “I thought you _liked_ rude boys, Kitty,” he quipped back at her. “And wasn’t last night my way of saying goodbye?” He teased, an arm snaking around her waist, pressing her body against his.

Vice’s fingers danced up his arm again, her arm eventually wrapping around his neck. He looked at her face, reminded of how lucky he was. Her neon-green eyes contrasted with her dark-brown skin that was the complexion of clay, and her full lips parted to reveal an amused smirk complete with rows of pretty teeth that was well-kept. It made her beautiful face come full circle, in his opinion. “Shut the fuck up and kiss me already-”

“Is that a request or an _order_?” He taunted with a seductive smile.

“For ancestor’s sake--”

Vice was cut off by Jay bending his head down, and crashing his lips against hers. The daughter of Scar returned the favor full force, now both hands on either side of his face. Jay was taller than her by three inches, so she didn’t have to get on her toes much. But to be dramatic, she did it right then and lifted one leg. Jay’s hands wandered to her backside, one of them slipping a note into her back pocket. The other rested on her cheek and squeezed.

(Might as well before he goes--).

It felt like forever -- it wasn’t, sadly -- but finally, the both of them broke away from each other.

Jay didn’t want to let go; he really didn’t -- but he had to.

“ _Ugh_ ,” Mal complained inside the limo, having turned her eyes away when they started sucking each other’s faces.

Evie squealed, thinking it was kind of a cute moment.

Carlos looked a bit uncomfortable, and looked at his feet instead.

“Can you hurry the hell up, Romeo?” Mal huffed.

Jay moved one hand (the one that slipped the letter) to his back and flipped her the middle finger without looking.

Mal gasped, and then scowled. She muttered _“fucking rude”_ under her breath, groaning to herself.

Ignoring her as well, Vice let her hands slide down the sides of his face, and breathed on his lips, her eyes half-closed. “I got a present for you.”

“Aside from you being here?” He quipped yet again.

“I was going to save it for your next birthday but... I guess it's an early present now.” She offered, as she got something silver and shiny from the inside of her vest. She put it into his fingerless-gloved hands and he looked at it.

“What is-- ?” But as soon as he asked the question, he pressed a button on the side of the handle, which activated a spring inside -- releasing a 9-inch shiny blade. “Oh. _Oh shit_.” (Knives were his favorite weapon of choice, aside from well, his bare hands). He swung it around -- obviously away from his face, and from Vice. He then put the safety on so that he wouldn’t cut himself by accident later. (He dealt with knives and sharp objects, enough over the years to know how to handle them with deadly proficiency). “How did you-?”

“Won it from some guy at Fight Night.” Vice smirked, her hands resting on her hips. “It’s yours now.” She leaned up again, planting a kiss on the edge of his lips, where his jaw began. That’s not the spot where she really wanted to kiss the Arabian boy but it’d do for now. She tried her best to keep her thoughts at bay, lest she act on them. “Go, before _I keep you here_.”

“...Well, now I wanna stay to see what that looks like,” Jay wittily retorted, giving Vice a flirty grin.

(He really didn’t know when to stop, Genie help him).

Vice scoffed, grabbing him by one of his arms and turning him around. “Go, _fuckhead._ ” She chuckled, shoving him lightly.

“Fine, fine,” he said with a laugh. The duo stopped just in front one of the car doors, just remembering that there were people who were crowding the limo. Most of the Villain Parents had left; including Jafar, so Jay didn’t have to deal with seeing his ugly face. In a way he was fine with this; the last face being someone that he actually knew, _and gave a damn about_.

He disliked the idea of being clumped in with strangers - kids that he didn’t even know like that, but seeing her face at least put the boy at ease.

Finally, he ducked his head inside, climbed inside the limo, and closed the door.

Vice slipped her hands into the back-pockets of her torn denim jeans, her fingers meeting crumbled paper. “What the-?” Blinking some, she dug out the piece of paper and unfolded it, looking it over. It looked like a note. It said the following;

_If I hear that you’ve found another guy while I’m gone, I’ll fucking kill him._

_If I hear that someone tried some funny shit with you, I’ll fucking kill them._

_If anything ever happens to you and you don't tell me when we see each other again, I’ll kill them still._

_Anyway, I’ll find a way to bring you over, so hang tight for now._

_Oh and P.S._

_If you forget me, I’ll actually hurt you. Take that whatever way you want._

_-Jay._

Next to his name was a heart that he drew there.

Vice read the letter. Then she read it again, and looked up to see Jay who had turn to look at her. She bit on her lower lip and giggled, glad that her blush wasn’t visible. She waved to him, wiggling her fingers.

He did the same, though he wore his seductive smile again. He loved the way that she smiled at him, the way that she bit her lip when she was being coy. It was a side of her that only he got to know - and it was a turn on to know that only he could evoke such reactions from her without doing much.

On that note, a part of him was glad he got into the damn car -- if he kept on that train of thought, he would have taken her into the car with him. _And taken her._ (It wouldn't be their first time in a car). 

Jay didn’t hear what the driver said, because he was too busy pressing his hand against the glass, looking at Vice.

As the car eventually pulled away, Vice could still imagine his dark, intense eyes.

Even when the car had turned into a small dot, she could feel them staring. With a small sigh, she held the note to her heart.

She missed him already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References for Languages Spoken:  
> German:  
> mich = me.  
> richtig = correct.  
> Ausgezeichnet = Excellent. 
> 
> Arabic:  
> yalaha min khaybat 'amal = What a disappointment.
> 
> And yes, we changed the amount of time from 20 years to 40 years. Makes more sense to us; gives the villains enough time to settle down/lose themselves, and more time for children to be born, etc. So yeah, it's 40 years now. You're welcome, fandom.
> 
> Oh and "Grimhilde" is used in some Disney publications, so we decided to go with that as her given name. So Evil Queen = E.Q, Queen Grimhilde, Grimhilde or just Evil Queen, so that you don't get confused. (It's also a German story, so obviously her and Evie speak the language).


	7. "Rotten to the Core: Part II"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The kids attempt to get Fairy Godmother's wand. 
> 
> Or the failed attempt, I should say. 
> 
> Side Note: We're almost halfway done into re-writing the first movie.
> 
> /Four/ more installments left!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took forever. 
> 
> To make it up, this chapter is HELLA long. Enjoy! <3
> 
> \--
> 
>  
> 
> Glossary:  
> Rotten Bananas; Isle-rock band.

_Once upon a time,_ King Adam, formerly known as “Beast” married Belle. Instead of a typical honeymoon, he united all of the magical kingdoms, and got elected as the King of the United States of Auradon.

Shortly after, he passed a law which mandated the banishment of all villains everywhere. The following groups of people were rounded up as well; the henchmen, sidekicks, any and all _resistant_ and _unlikeable ‘_ characters’.. so on, and so forth, to a prison island called the Isle of the Lost with a magical barrier to keep them there ....indefinitely.

 _Once upon a time_ , and forty years later, the barrier still separates the two worlds…

After years of ruling the kingdom, Belle and Adam decided to retire, thus giving the crown to their son, Prince Benjamin.

 _Once upon a time_ , some of the villains had children, their own kids that would serve as the antithesis to everything that Auradon stood for..

 _Once upon a time_ , the son of Belle and Adam had an idea. _A royal idea_. His first proclamation; to allow the descendants of the most feared villains to have a chance to attend Auradon Prep and live among them. Unbeknownst to the residents of said city, their way of peace, pretty things, and reign of “goodness” would never be the same again….

 _Once upon a time_ , the inhabitants of the Isle suffered under conditions inhumane, _even for them_ , under an invisible dome, with no major telecommunication system with the outside world, no magic, no hope... and _no way out_.

And _once upon a time_ ... the inhabitants of a particular place on the _other_ side of the barrier still enjoyed their separate worlds with birds, songs and dance… until _now._ **_  
_ ** **_-_ **

**_A day or so ago,_ _  
_ _In the United States of Auradon,_ _Auradon City:_**

_An almost-sixteen year old boy stood on top of a poofy, soft stool, his arms outstretched to the sides as he stared out of the window. Past the transparent windows, the prince’s pity-filled, hazel-green eyes gazed towards the Isle of the Lost. Though he hasn’t met anyone from the Isle, he had a dream about someone from there, presumably; a girl with purple hair and green eyes._

_But before he could ask the girl’s name, he’d wake up. It would always be that image; a light-skinned, almost pale, girl his age sporting shoulder-length, curly, purple hair and light green eyes with a mischievous smile on her features. The area around her looked desolate and maybe unfinished-- but he’d never noticed because he was too busy focusing on her face, wanting to know just who she was._ _For some reason, the dream came back, still fresh in his mind. His brows furrowed as he propelled himself deeper into thought._

_‘Who is she?’_

_“Stop moving, sir.”_

_He looked at the royal fitter who was taking his measurements, about to say something but was stopped by a stern,_

_“No. Moving.”_

_Benjamin kept his mouth shut, nodded and looked back up again. He went back to his stiff stance and stared at the door instead. His arms hurt. With an exhale, he impatiently waited for his parents to come back so he could tell them his first proclamation and decree as King._

_All of this was for his upcoming coronation, after all._

_Almost like magic, his parents strolled in the open doors of the castle. His father’s voice bounced off of the decorated bright yellow and white walls with Auradonian posters and slogans,_

_“How is it possible that you’re going to be crowned King next month? You’re just a baby!”_

_The woman besides him, Belle, playfully smacked Adam’s arm. “Ben’s turning sixteen, dear!” Belle laughed, unlatched her arm from his and walked past Adam’s left. Her honest brown eyes scanned over the folded up clothes that were put on a navy-colored foosball table and transferred them over to the rest of the clothes that were on top of a beige-colored embroidered suitcase near Ben’s bed. Belle’s brown hair was swept out of her cream-complexioned face and held in place by an impressive tiara with encrusted jewels on it. She wore a knee-length, sleeveless, yellow dress with the same colored heels._

_“Hey, mom, dad,” Ben beamed._

_Adam nodded at him in greeting. Taking off his glasses, he walked until he was a couple of feet in front of his son. “It’s far too young to be crowned King!” He folded them up and then placed his hands in front of him, still holding the glasses. “I didn’t at least make a good decision until I was what, fourty-two?”_

_Jokingly, Belle turned to her husband and cocked her head back. “Uh, you decided to marry me at twenty-eight.” She spoke up after she was done folding. She rejoined Adam’s side._

_“It was either you or the teapot,” Adam lightly jabbed back, getting a small laugh from Ben. “Kidding.”_

_“You mean anyone that could handle your hot-temper?”_

_He looked at her, giving her a tight-lipped smile. “Ha.” Adam was a man who, upon first look, would not be distinguishable from his younger self. He once was a man who had fair skin, long brown hair, and brighter eyes. Over the years, due to being a former Beast, some of the features remained even as a human, such as his strength (which explained his moderately fit physique), and tall stature. The side effects included his darker hair, which was currently a dark brown (it was also cut), as well as his eyes (which were also now a darker shade of blue going into light brown). He looked like a man in his mid-thirties, with small wrinkles under his eyes. With a soft sigh, he looked at Ben._

_“I have something important to say.” He cleared his throat, preparing to move._

_A firm cough reminded him of the royal fitter that was now at his feet with the tape measure, taking notes diligently. Ben nodded. (He secretly wished the man was done already, but kept that to himself -- but at least he could rest both of his arms now)._

_Ben stood up straighter. He was mentally prepared for the incoming backlash of his next few words. Or, well, he hoped he was. “I’ve decided on my first royal proclamation.” Belle and Adam looked at each other, then at Ben expectantly with interested smiles._

_“I’ve decided that the children of the Isle of the Lost be given a chance to live here in Auradon.”_

_Belle’s jaw dropped. Adam’s eyes widened._

_“Everytime I look out to the Island, I feel like they’ve been abandoned!” At last, Ben walked down from the fancy blue stool, and royal fitter (who huffed quietly and decided to give up for the moment because_ _damn_ _this kid was annoying and fussy.)_

_Adam stepped closer to his son. There was a frown sitting on his face. “The children of our sworn enemies… living among us?” His eyes narrowed at Ben. He wanted to make sure that he was hearing correctly. Ben subconsciously faltered slightly-- but willed himself to go on. Ben wasn’t scared of his father, but he was a tough cookie to crack, and hard to please. Sometimes, he felt nothing he did was enough…_

_He knew that he was now skating on very thin, metaphorical, magic ice._

_“I was thinking that we start small. A group of four.” Here it was. The soft nodding of Belle helped soothed Ben’s nerves, but he knew that she could only understand to a fault. He fought the urge to fidget with his hands. ‘No turning back now..’. “Uh.. I.. I’ve already chosen them.”_

_“Have you?” Adam questioned, a foreign edge in his voice, his eyes not having let up._

_Belle swooped in as the voice of reason. “Hey! In case if you forgot, mister - I gave you a second chance.” Belle pulled him back, a hand on her husband’s arm. Adam paused, an unreadable expression on his face. He still frowned, but yielded. He moved back, stood some feet away from Ben and joined Belle at her side once more. She turned her head back to their son and urged him to continue. “It’s okay, sweetie. Go on. Who are their parents?”_

_Ben fought the urge to bite down on his thumb nail. Right then, he suddenly remembered several nights of him staring at the Villain Exhibit. He wrote down the names of the more notable villains on a piece of paper, and did some research on them. Not much was available, other than the already known factors; that some of them were resurrected, some not. In the end, all of them were sentenced to be imprisoned on the Isle. To be quite honest, Ben wasn’t even sure if the ones he picked even_ _had_ _children…._

_His nerves danced with the heat of the sun of an Auradonian summer upon realizing standing in front of his father, that his plan was half-baked at best._

_He also tried to not give himself away. “....Cruella De Vil. Jafar… Evil Queen..” He paused and then looked at his dad. “....Maleficent.”_

_The fitter from behind him gasped loudly, and dropped his clipboard. Belle squeaked, while Adam looked like he wanted to flip. (There was the double whammy; Belle knew that no words would help if he went full beast---)._

_“MALEFICENT?!” He roared. “She’s ONE of the WORST villains in the land!”_

_“Dad, please-!”_

_He walked up to Ben, getting dangerously close. His glasses snapped in his hands -- clean in half and the lenses were cracked._

_(Ben swallowed, suddenly being made aware of just how tall, strong and powerful his father was. Nevermind earlier, he was_ **_definitely_ ** _scared of him now)._

_“I will NOT hear of this. This discussion is over!” He pointed a finger in Ben’s face, making the fifteen year old feel like he was five, instead. It was also times like these that reminded Ben that his father was more than a man; a former beast, something of both. “They all are guilty of unspeakable crimes! Villains like them don’t deserve anything but to rot!” He bellowed, making Ben flinch ever so slightly._

_(At the same time, the fitter bowed and left the room, this obviously being a conversation for the royal family to resolve -- two guards closed the door behind him)._

_“Don’t you know that we have a barrier for a reason?!”_

_Ben swallowed. “I know, but-” He stuttered, trying to find the words to say. “But they have kids, dad!” Ben countered. “What about the--?”_

_“I said what I said. That is final, Benjamin!”_

_“But that isn’t fair!”_

_Ben felt his heart beat rapidly; his ears were throbbing with his increased heart rate. He’d never yelled back at his parents, and he wasn’t raised to be rude, or raise his voice, but to be gentle yet firm when he needed to be. This was one of those times. (And he was failing.) He steadied himself, and breathed. Ben’s eyes pleaded with him, hoping that he would see reason. The only people who supported him thus far was his mother. Everyone else that he told, Princess Audrey --daughter of Aurora and Phillip-- his girlfriend, danced around the topic. His childhood friend, Chad, the son of “Cinderella” and Prince Charming, laughed at him. Since Chad was a blabbermouth and Audrey liked gossiping with her birds, they both spread word that Ben planned to bring the kids of villains over, and well… the rumors weren’t nice at all. (He tried to confront them about it but both denied it.)_

_Some of the meaner rumors said that he was a “villain sympathizer”, “sick” in the head, or that he might have been spelled somehow at birth or something. Sometimes Ben even got weird stares in the hallways. Nonetheless, out of the students that attended Auradon Prep, the only ones that seemed to not be openly opposed to the idea were Li Lanfen (who preferred “Lonnie” for personal reasons), daughter of Fa Mulan, and Li Shang, and Doug, son of Dopey. So while Ben understood his father’s apprehension… he wished that he could be more supportive like his mother was. Belle nodded again, and unlike her husband, at least considered it._

_(Or it seemed like it. And as much as he loved his mother, sometimes it felt like she was coddling him. But he’d much prefer that to his strict father so he tried not to complain about it.)_

_“I think it’s a wonderful idea, Ben.” She walked up to her son and squeezed his shoulders tightly. Though Ben didn’t see it, there was something in his mother’s eyes; a mixture of uncertainty and … shame. Regret. Whatever it was, she fixed her face quickly and flashed Ben a dazzling smile. “Is this what you really want?”_

_“Yes, mom. I’m sure of it.” He confirmed, placing his hands on top of hers. Belle nodded again, and then turned to her husband. Adam looked back at both of them, an icy look that held both his wife and son. He set his jaw, and turned his sights on Ben, looking like (even if it was a for a moment or two), like he was also considering it. After a while, he sighed and wet his lips._

_“...Fine. I suppose that the children are innocent. But if this goes south…” He let his threat hang in the air, not finishing it. Ben understood and he nodded. With that, Adam turned his back on his son. Belle mouthed the words, “Well done”, and gave him another shoulder squeeze before also turning her back and joining Adam at his side._

_“Shall we?” Without another word, the boy’s parents exited, leaving the brightly-colored room irradiated with sunlight, and their son, behind. Releasing the breath that he didn’t know he was holding, Ben held a hand to his chest and shook his head._

_He had no idea what would have happened had his father say no. But he was glad that he didn’t. Finally; a way for him to prove himself. Maybe if these batch of villain kids did well, he could bring some more over!_

_And maybe… one of the kids that would be brought over would be his dream girl… Silently stepping over the broken glasses that his father dropped while in “beast mode”, he made his way over to the window, nervous and slightly shaky fingers fiddling with his golden beast ring._

_Maybe he’d find her… and_ **_maybe_ ** _he’d be right, and prove everyone wrong that bringing them over wasn’t a mistake...._

_\---_

_The next day, earlier that morning,_

_Auradon City, Auradon Prep:_

_“Following the wake of Prince Ben’s proclamation, various students attending Auradon Prep, as well parents and staff have weighed in on the situation. No news about what the children look like, or their names, but we do have who they are descended from, and it is as follows; Cruella De Vil, Jafar, Evil Queen and Maleficent. Currently, Prince Ben has this to say about the decision, that according to him -- has been brewing in his mind for a while.”_

_The image of a light-skinned brown woman with a way-too-perfect-white-toothed smile gave way to one of a young boy with fair skin with honey-brown hair who wore a royal blue blazer with gold trims. He smoothed down his lapels and cleared his throat._

_“Hello, my future subjects. Princes, princesses, friends and everyone in between. Uh.. My name is Prince Benjamin-- but you can call me Prince Ben. I suppose I should get to the point, huh? I know most of you have heard the rumors… So I will do my best to address them all. First and foremost, yes, it’s true that I plan on bringing over children from the Isle of the Lost to Auradon. I want to rehabilitate them, so they can integrate into our society as smoothly as possible. Second, I am not under a spell, or cursed. I am 100% consciously making this decision, and I intend to see it through.” He gulped quietly. “For better or for worse,” he may have muttered that part to himself more than to the camera, but tried to look more confident than he felt. “Lastly, I expect nothing more than the--”_

_The television was shut off by a girl who was Ben’s age. “Benny-boo, I know you want to give those icky, nasty villain kids a chance but this is crazy!” She cried, throwing up her hands. She crossed over to her boyfriend, wearing a frown that didn’t quite suit her delicate light brown face. “What if they come over and they destroy everything? Did you think about that?”_

_He frowned, sighing some. “Audrey… we don’t know anything about them. I thought you said you’d give them a chance.”_

_“I said that I support your decision as future Queen. I didn’t say that I support you ruining everything that we stand for, which, if you noticed, won’t be much if you let them over here!” She complained, her bright pink bottom lip jutting out in what have been a cute pout, if she wasn’t giving him trouble._

_(Though a small part of Ben did want to kiss her because she_ **_was_ ** _being cute..)_

_Ben frowned more and he went to open his mouth, but Audrey interjected again._

_“I don’t trust them!”_

_“They haven’t arrived yet,” he countered._

_“Hmph!”  Audrey pouted again, now folding her arms over her chest. She shook her head full of light brown, almost-too-perfectly-princess-like-hair. “I don’t like the idea of having to share our things with them.” Audrey gasped. “What if they bring their disgusting Isle germs and diseases?! I heard from someone that they don’t wash their hands after they eat_ **_or_ ** _before! They probably have fingernails filled with dirt! Ew, I don’t wanna shake those hands!” She shuddered, hugging herself. She grabbed Ben’s shoulders and looked at him pleadingly. “Benny-bear, please, please, please think about what you’re doing, okay? Whatever this is, snap out of it! Us heroes and those villains don’t mix. We’re not supposed to. It’s just the way that things are.”_

_Ben sighed, shifting the weight between his feet uncomfortably. He understood her concern; in Auradon, they were taught the Isle of the Lost was a dirty, diseased-ridden area._

_They were taught that the Isle was the complete opposite of what Auradon was, and that the barrier was set up to protect them, and keep everything that didn’t fit in Auradon, out._

_They were taught the villains deserve what they got; to this point, Ben understood. But… these were kids that didn’t know what happy music was, what sugar and sweets were, kids that would never have a chance to escape the sins of their parents._

_Why was he one of the few ones that seemed to question this…?_

_“I am thinking, Audrey. Really. Why does everyone--?” He was about to say something, but was interrupted by a knock on the door. “Come in,” he ordered._

_“The rooms are cleared out and ready for the Villain Kids, my highness.” A guard told him after entering the room. He bowed at the waist, and then straightened himself. Breaking away from Audrey, (and glad to get away from her pessimism), he nodded._

_“Oh, good! And the limo?”_

_“On its way to fetch them as we speak, sire.”_

_“Thank you. You are free to go,” Ben told him. The guard bowed again, and then straightened up. (Ben still had to get used to “sire”.)  He turned on his heel and left the room. Ben looked back at Audrey and sighed softly. “Can you at least try to be welcoming? Please, for me?”_

_Audrey pouted once more, latching her arms around his. “Hm… Fine. I’ll try.” She paused to lightly tap the boy’s nose. “--But only because you asked so nicely.” She smiled. “Before that-- food first, because it’s early and everything’s better with a full stomach.” With that, the couple walked out of her dorm room and made their way downstairs to eat, with Ben trying his best to ignore the whispers, the weird stares and the rumors that were being spread before his eyes._

_Even if Audrey had her complaints, at least she was willing to try. Ben wished that everyone else could be more like her.._

\---

Later in the day,

Mid-afternoon:

The car ride was… pretty damn _boring._

And quiet.

For a great chunk of it, the quartet didn’t really say much to each other. Evie looked around, the only one with a smile on her face. (A nervous one, but still a smile). She missed her mother. Evie promised her that she would make her mother proud and that’s what she set out to do. Her thoughts were about big castles, riches and living with a handsome prince.

Carlos was jittery. He drummed his fingers against his thighs. While he was glad to be away from Cruella’s abusive crutches, he was deathly nervous because he always dreamed about being free. It was a different story now that he actually _was_ free. Anxiety made him bite down on his bottom lip, as he frantically looked out of the car window, almost as if he was waiting for his mother to jump out at him from somewhere.

Meanwhile, Mal kicked at the car floor with her slightly scuffed up, black heeled boots. Her lips were pulled into a frown as she plotted. Like Evie, she wanted her mother to be proud of her. Hopefully, this would do the trick. As she kept scheming of ways of how to get the wand, her face paled just a little at the thought of failing for the umpteenth time. Unfortunately for her, Evie noticed, took a brush out of her hearts bag and stretched out to reach Mal’s face.

“What the-- get that away from me!” Mal protested, finally bringing noise into the car.

“You were looking a little dry.” _‘Don’t other girls like makeup?’_  Evie flinched, fighting the compulsive urge to cover up Mal’s paleness. “I’m just helping you out!”

“I don’t care! _Stop._ Besides, I don’t like being interrupted in the middle of my scheming.” Maleficent’s daughter scoffed and folded her arms across her chest.

Evie frowned, and reluctantly put her makeup brush away with an _“are you sure?”_ face. Mal ignored the girl besides her, and rolled her eyes, then stared out the window. She clenched her jaw, and blew a strand of hair out of her face.

The other boy inside the car, Jay-- also stared out of the window. The slums of the town square called Woeful Way passed by them steadily as the car took a left, and turned a corner. They passed by more shabbily dressed people, unfinished buildings, shops and Genie _knows_ how-many-months-old discarded corpses in black garbage bags near dumpsters. Then again, there was no real graveyard on the Isle. The only and _closest_ thing to one the island had, was the one outside of Dragon Hall. It bore defaced and desecrated tombstones with crude and profane sayings on them, rather than the names of the dead. Dragon Hall itself, was actually an old tomb re purposed as an evil high school for teenagers.

(A school he’d barely miss, save for the rival school brawls with Serpent Prep, that is).

Jay’s facial expression was unreadable, and it seemed like he was frozen. If someone didn’t know him, they would have thought he was a life-like statue instead of a teenage boy. The only movement he gave was the steady rise and falling of his chest as he breathed involuntarily.

...Jay missed her _already_. He mentally kicked himself for the admission, but it was true, and as much as he wanted to hide it, he couldn’t.

“Hey, what’s that?”

Finally, the oldest of them all looked away from the window. “Huh?” He looked to where Carlos pointed, and he narrowed his eyes as the various glass jars that held different assortments of unknown (were they even edible?) _somethings._ “Hell if I know,” he said at last, speaking for the first time since he got into the car. Jay shifted himself around and stretched out with a grunt. He noticed just how _stiff_ he was. There were cracking noises as he rolled his neck around. Just how long was he staring out of the damn window?

Reflexively, Mal muttered an off-hand comment. “You’d probably know more if you actually paid attention.”

A set of dark chocolate eyes glared at her, letting her know that her statement was heard. Jay scowled. “Wanna say that shit to my face, Maleficent _Junior_?”

Mal’s eyes didn’t meet his own although she felt the full force of his intense, most likely _murder-y_ eyes. It felt like something crawling underneath her skin, and she had to fight the urge to scratch her wrists. She quietly shuddered, remembering what happened _back then_ \-- and mentally kicked herself for showing weakness (because she refused to call it _fear._ She refused to give him that satisfaction). Instead, she elected to not even give him an answer.

One of his hands curled up into a fist as he _considered_ leaping across Evie and Carlos to get to Mal. (Both of whom were now looking in between Mal and Jay in equal parts worry and fear). “Y’know, for someone who’s supposed to be a tough girl, you _suck_ at it. Don’t you know that you’re only supposed to talk shit if you can back it up? Didn’t your mother teach you? Oh wait.” Jay scoffed. “Forgot your mother doesn’t even care if you’re _alive or not._ ”

Mal’s head snapped towards him. A scowl graced her own features.

(She hated how _quickly_ he could cut at her insecurities.) “At least I have a-”

“Guys!” Evie cried out, putting her arms out in between Mal and Jay, sensing the thick tension in the air. “Can we _not_ fight in a car? I know you don’t like each other, and I don’t know why… but for crown’s sake!” Both teenagers stared down the other; it was the only time that Mal had the gall to stare at him just in the face, or so it seemed. She was actually just imagining her mother’s eyes instead. Those penetrative, cold green eyes were more comforting than Jay’s bottomless pit of dark browns…

“I-I think Evie’s right,” Carlos agreed quietly, although nobody seemed to hear him.  

“Can we just… _chill_ ? Be _chill_ , okay?” She tried again, upon seeing neither teen back down yet, worriedly looking in between the both of them. Eventually Mal huffed and looked away first, going back to her corner. She rubbed her arm at the spot where she was bruised, still feeling the swelling through her jacket. Jay narrowed his eyes at Mal and then snorted.

He wanted to make a comment about her appearance, but he decided against it. Instead, he simply said, “Whatever.”

He shrugged and his eyes went down to the glass jars filled with brightly-colored... actually--"What the fuck even _are_ these?" Jay wasn’t relaxed because the comment still bounced around in his head, but he put it on the back-burner. _For now._ He reached out and grabbed a jar all for himself, and removed the top. He sniffed it and the scent of the colorful strips slapped his nose. “Augh--!” He scrunched up his nose and nearly dropped the jar. 

“...candy.”

 _“What?”_   He turned his head to Carlos, as if seeing him for the first time. (He had the tendency to not remember people who weren’t immediately important to him.) 

“It’s … it’s uh, sugar. I think. Sugar-y… sweet things?” He sounded unsure -- mostly because he wasn’t sure if it was a word or not-- “I’m.. not, not uh... really the best a-at explaining things..” He muttered quietly. He reached out and removed the lid to one of the jars, and took out a round brown circular-shaped candy. He sniffed it. “Actually, I think this one is.. chocolate?” He awkwardly took a bite out of it. He paused and blinked twice. It was actually pretty good! His eyes widened in delight, and he exclaimed, “Mmm!” Then he threw the rest of the chocolate into his mouth and ate it. “Hey, these things don't taste like trash! Everyone, try one!”

Evie watched him intently, her curious eyes alight. “Really? They're actually good?” She let out a sigh of relief. She thought that something bad would happen, but if Carlos said so.. “Oooh, look at this! It’s my color!” She picked out a candy on a stick that was jagged and solid. It was a soft blue color and Evie delicately tasted it with the tip of her tongue.  She opened her mouth and bit off a piece of the candy using one side of her mouth. It fell in with only little difficulty, but indeed-- the taste was divine. It wasn’t something that she could readily identify, but it was good nonetheless.

(Then again, Evie starved herself. She wouldn't know good taste from bad unless it was fashion-related.)

Jay still didn’t trust any of the treats in the car. But he was also a curious boy - every inch as he was when he was little, (just curious about _‘different’_ things than boys his age, but still curious), so he took a chance and bit down on one of the colorful striped candies. Like Carlos and Evie, he was pleasantly surprised by the explosion of taste in his mouth. It was definitely sweet, but his candy was also sour at the same time, which worked amazingly well, _somehow_. Jay and Carlos grabbed more of the assorted sweets, their hands and laps soon full with circle-shaped candies on a stick covered in wrapper, chocolate covered balls, more blue candies on a stick, hard candies wrapped up in gold paper, and practically every and _any_ thing that they could get their hands on. (Jay had also managed to steal a pair of headphones).

The only one that didn’t partake was Mal, and that was because she was still plotting. She didn’t want to go to Auradon without a plan.

Evie didn’t eat much to begin with, so she was content with her blue candy that she was still chewing on delicately. (She didn’t want to ruin her teeth, or her makeup-- but she also didn’t really know how to eat this “candy” contraption. She just _assumed_ she was doing it correctly).

 _‘What is this?’_ Mal picked up a remote-looking device, frowning some. She pressed the button on it, holding it up to see if did anything. Right behind Mal’s head, the partition rolled down, providing the kids with a view of up ahead.

Evie’s eyes widened and she gasped. “The bridge! Look!”

At that, all of the kids saw that the bridge lacked ...well, everything that made a bridge, _a bridge._ There were no cables to support it, and no deck. The gothic arch of the “entrance” to the Isle was darkened; most likely weathered due to the lack of maintenance and occasional heavy rain and thunder that would befall the island. (There were scorch marks that were scattered along the arches).

Instantly, Carlos threw his candy all over the floor of the car, throwing his arms around whoever was the closest to him, which happened to be Evie. Anxiety claimed him, leading him to shout, “It’s a trap!”

“AHHHHH!” Shrieked Evie, and Mal as they both panicked. Evie threw her arms around Carlos, and squeezed her eyes shut, while Mal ducked for cover, and used her arms to protect her head.

Jay’s fingers latched onto the handle of the car door, prepared to fling it open and save himself. “What the fuck?”

A bright, golden light suddenly filled Jay’s vision, a spectacular bright light that looked like something most _definitely_ Auradonian. (It was too bright and ...whimsical for the morbidity of the Isle). It did a continuous loop that led into criss-crosses in what Jay could only describe as a “show of lights”. It reminded him of when he snuck into the Abandoned Warehouse for a concert and the performing band, the _Rotten Bananas_ thrashed the place, ending the whole night by throwing poorly tied together paper mache balls containing colored dust at the audience. It was the first time that both Jay and Vice saw any _real_ “colorful” thing that wasn’t nauseating to look at. (One collided with the side of her face and it was hilarious _,_ even if they both got covered in it). It was also coincidentally one of their first dates together.

(He was starting to miss her again, dammit.)

Upon nothing happening, Carlos picked his head up, and looked around. “Huh…?” He unwrapped his arms from Evie, slack-jawed. “What’s… happening? Why aren’t we plummeting to our doom?”

Evie opened one eye, and then the other. “We’re alive?” She looked around and noticed the beautiful golden light that “danced” outside their windows almost as if it was alive. “It’s so beautiful..” She smiled, clasping her hands together over her heart.

Mal was the last one to look up. Curiously, she held up the remote in her hand, twisted herself around, and tapped it against the hard part of her seat three times. “Hey! Driver! Did… this little button do something?”

Without looking up, the man in dark shades chuckled. “No, but you know what does? This one.” He briefly held up a similar looking device to Mal’s, except it was smaller and yellow with a black button. “The one you have is for my garage. And this one here?” He flipped a switch near the rear-view the mirror, which rolled up the partition, separating the two parts, leaving the kids in silence.

Mal glared at the black piece that blocked them from the driver --- and front view. She sighed from her nose and chewed on the inside of her cheek. She relaxed back into her seat, and tapped the remote against her palm before she tossed it somewhere, since it was useless to her. “Hmph.” She crossed her arms against her chest, and glanced out of the window, going back to plotting.

(Even as moody as she was, even _she_ had to admit that the light show outside looked interesting. She just didn’t particularly care).

The rest of the car ride fell quiet again. Soon, the bridge disappeared under the car and the lights stopped dancing. Passing across the bridge, the new view took over; black, toxic muddied water gave way into an unexpected clear (and at times, shining _blue_ ) body of water, dark overcast skies, half-built houses and apartment slums replaced by white-tipped mountains, grass, tall trees with green leaves, an unfamiliar, cloudy blue sky, and clean streets. They passed by some strangely dressed people who looked around the same age as them, carrying what seemed to be textbooks and backpacks. (They also all wore varying bright colors -- these must be the students, which meant they were getting closer to their destination). As the car pulled in, the amount of students with the same forced cheerful expressions increased. One of them even carried a “Welcome!” sign. Others just stood there and smiled; while some waved-- almost enthusiastically -- which disgusted Jay. (And Mal, though she tried not to show it). He reflexively stuck up the middle finger, not caring if they could see it or not. He didn’t see the point of looking out of the window anymore, so he scowled in his seat, instead looking around the car for more last minute stuff to steal. Carlos glanced up every once in a while, but sank into his seat the closer and slower the car got, obviously _very_ nervous. His eyes darted from every which angle, and he swallowed a lump in his throat. This _definitely_ wasn't the Isle anymore. Mal didn’t even notice that they were almost there--- nor did she register the god-awful noise about to grate on her ear drums.

The car eventually pulled to a complete stop in front of the school’s entrance. The driver parked the car and got out of the driver’s side. He briskly walked to the passenger side, and opened the door -- revealing four teenagers in their own individual distinct styles consistent of leather, customized torn clothes, dirty, worn out boots and jewelry.

At the same time, several individuals wearing matching uniforms; royal blue tops with “Knights” etched into it, yellow pants and clean, bright gold sneakers played in unison. The sounds that came from their hands-- no-- their _instruments--_ rained down upon the VKs’ ears. They groaned loudly, covering their ears.

Mal was the first to come out, hissing under her breath. The bright sun also caught her off guard, and made her cover her eyes with an arm.

Evie came out next, and grunted with a small frown, as the light caught on her delicate blue lashes. (She _really_ wasn’t used to it, due to being in a dark, dusty castle for 10 years…). But since there was an audience, she tried her best to emerge as gracefully as possible. (She might have stumbled slightly because she underestimated how stiff and _asleep_ her legs were.) Regardless, she covered it up with a curtsy and a rehearsed smile at the people in front of her.

Carlos came out right behind Evie, a shaky foot meeting solid concrete. He hid some of his stolen chocolates on the inside of his patchwork black and white leather coat. He held on tightly to the ends; as if trying to hide himself in it. He inched towards Evie.

The last one to come out was Jay, who had managed to hide all that he stole in the car within his clothes. He slammed the door closed, keeping his eyes low enough so that he could avoid the sun’s rays. How ironic for all he stole, he couldn’t swipe a pair of sunglasses. Maybe later-

The marching band abruptly stopped playing. They were instructed to, by a fair-skinned hand that belonged to a woman. She parted the band as she came through, her arms spread in a grand manner with a wide smile-- the same, weird ones that the other students were wearing. (Keyword; _were_ ). Without the marching band playing, the soft cacophony of whispers between students was made audible. The woman fully emerged, wearing a baby blue dress suit with a pink bow; colors that somehow made her look…  immature. (The VKs kept their opinions to themselves). This woman looked young. _Old_ , but also _way_ too young….

“Welcome to Auradon Prep!” She enthusiastically declared, smiling again. She clapped her hands twice and with a look at the whispering students that slowed their steps to look at the VKs, of whom were met with blank, hard, and even bewildered stares from their more colorful counterparts. The adult woman cleared her throat and demanded silence by shooing them away with a hand and an encouraging smile. The woman cleared her throat again and then looked at the kids, trying to hide her… _reservations_ about them. “I am Fairy Godmother, headmistress of the school.”

The VKs all looked at each other, exchanging looks of disbelief, then at her.  

Quick to the point, Mal took a step closer and asked, “ _The_ Fairy Godmother?” She dropped her arm, and placed it on her hip. _‘Time to play her up like butter,’_ she thought. “‘Bippity-Boppity-Boo’ and all?”

“Mhm!” Fairy Godmother nodded. “The one and the same, dear!” Just behind her, a light-skinned brown girl nodded with a tight lipped smile, while a paler complexioned boy also nodded.

“Interesting.” Mal nodded eagerly with a smirk. “You know, I always wondered how it felt like for Cinderella when you appeared out of nowhere with that sparkling wand! And that… nice, sparkling wand..” She trailed off, lightly clapping her hands together.

Fairy Godmother nodded, and smiled again. (Which Jay noticed… he narrowed his eyes at her in distrust. Nobody should be smiling that much.) 

“Yes, my child but that was a long time ago. And as I always say, ‘don’t focus on the past or you’ll miss the future!’” She did another grand gesture with her arms crossing, and her fingers wiggling as they got further away from her eyes.

“....” Mal’s eyes widened as she realized that her plan backfired. (That and this woman made her very, _VERY,_ uncomfortable with her expressive face and body language -- luckily, she wasn’t the only one. At least she hoped so.) ‘ _Oooookay….’_

Finally, the two AKs behind her, stepped forward, also in sync -- seriously, was everything _rehearsed_ ? -- with the boy speaking up first. “Hello,” he said with surprised, wide eyes. He stood with his legs shoulder-length apart, and squared shoulders. His arms were folded in front of him, his left over right. There was a gold watch on his right wrist, an item that caught Jay’s attention. _‘One, two.. Four. It worked. They’re all here! ...Though, they’re not what I expected…’_

“I’m Ben.”

“ _Prince!_ Benjamin!” The girl on his left side corrected vigorously. “Soon to be King!”

Evie’s eyes lit up once more, her dreams of princes, and big castles fresh  in her head. She flitted over quickly and smiled at him. _‘A prince… A real, breathing prince! He’s so cute--!’_ She breathlessly giggled and dipped low into a curtsy. “You had me at prince. My mom’s a Queen, which makes me a princess.”

The girl at Ben’s side smiled again -- traces of semi-open malice in her tone of voice as she all-too-happily delivered the news; “Actually… that kingdom is part of Auradon and has been our land for _years_. So, the Evil Queen has no royal status here. And, neither do you _._ ”

Evie looked at the girl-- the obviously unpleasant, _mean,_ but _pretty_ girl. Her eyes fluttered, her shoulders sunk, and she closed her mouth. “O-oh..” She swallowed and awkwardly moved back, shuffling back to the spot she was before.

“...and this is Audrey!” Ben exclaimed, laughing nervously.

“ _Princess!_ Audrey!” She corrected him again with the same energy as before. She quickly grabbed his hand and beamed at them all. “His _girlfriend._ ” Audrey turned her head and threw her bouncy brown tresses over a shoulder. “ _Right,_ Benny-boo?”

“Ben and Audrey will show you all around, and I’ll see you tomorrow. The doors of wisdom are never shut! However, I will that tell you the library hours are from 8 to 9:30. Curfew is at 10 sharp. You may not have heard, but I have a thing with curfews so try to honor them, please. More on the rules tomorrow. For now, enjoy yourselves, dears!” She then turned a right, walking off. The marching band, as if on cue, turned in the same direction and walked out behind her.

Ben, for a moment, was unsure how to greet them. Be formal? Friendly? Strict but firm? But since he realistically didn’t have that much time to think, he went with his gut, which told to try being friendly again. He walked up to Jay first, and smiled. He extended his hand out to him in a greeting, “It’s uh, so great to finally meet-- _ack_ !” His shoulders shook as Jay unexpectedly punched him in the throat.

(It wasn’t hard enough to crush his windpipe, but ouch, it _hurt_!).

That didn’t stop Ben from trying to be a good sport about it though. (Once he caught his breath of course). When he did, he chuckled, and moved away from the teenager. (It also didn't help that Jay fixed him with an icy-cold glare that made Ben’s skin crawl….). He moved onto Mal, but all he got in return was a weird look. He paused, eyes glued to her face. He tried to remember why she looked familiar, but couldn’t readily place it, so he moved on to the next, which was Evie. Despite her earlier and harsh rejection from Audrey, she was still batting her eyelashes hopefully at Ben. She happily curtsied again and smiled a smile that spread to Ben’s lips. Feeling welcomed (at least a little), he bowed back to her out of respect. The last one was Carlos. He extended his hand for a handshake, but Carlos stared at him as he sucked his thumb -- trying to get the last bit of chocolate out of it, so Ben passed on him too.

 _‘Maybe no handshakes today..._ ’ He cleared his throat. _‘Oh no!’_ Ben panicked slightly, as he remembered something. How could he forget the speech he prepared? _Enchanted roses!_   His dad would have scolded him already! “Uh, th- this is a momentous occasion! In one that will go down in history,” He moved back, and folded his arms in front of himself again. “As the day that our two peoples will finally heal--!”

“-- _Or,”_ Mal interrupted, not interesting in hearing whatever he had to spew. “The day you showed four people where the bathrooms are.”  

Ben laughed nervously again. “A little too much?”

“A little more than much, yeah.” 

“So much for first impressions?” He shrugged his shoulders in jest giving her a smile again, of which Mal didn’t return. (Her lack of response made him more nervous.) Not fond of how much he was looking at her, Audrey interjected.

“Ben, how about we start the tour? Wouldn’t that be a good idea?” She wrapped her arms around Ben’s and put herself in between Mal and him to create space. He looked away from Mal, and extended an arm,

“Yes, thank you for reminding me!” He gestured to the building -- and statue behind him as he turned, “Auradon Prep! This high school was converted over from an old castle originally built 300 years ago. Of course, this is my father’s doing, as you can see from this statue.” He paused briefly, looked up and clapped twice; the bronze image of his father standing heroically with a fist over his heart shifting into Adam in his beast form.

“AHH!” Carlos let out a frightened yell as he ran to Evie and wrapped his arms around her waist. (She flinched at the sudden contact but quickly relaxed and patted his head.)

“Carlos, it’s just a statue,” she whispered soothingly. “It’s okay, look!” She pointed at it with a dainty, painted finger. With the soft encouragement from her, he looked up from her shoulder, and blinked.

Ben laughed softly, slightly amused. “Yes, like she said. My father had it constructed this way to morph from Beast to man, to show that anything is possible. Carlos, was it?”

The freckled boy nodded, detaching himself from his first and _only_ friend in the group, standing by himself. “Y-yeah.. C-Carlos De Vil.”

“De Vil?” Ben cocked his head back. “Ah, you must be Cruella’s son, then!” He smiled. “Oh! That reminds me! I’m so sorry. I was so excited that I forgot to ask your names.” (On second thought, he could have guessed from their outfits. Mayb-- okay, he _couldn’t._ He also wanted to ask why they were dressed the way they were but decided against it. _For now._ )

The blue-haired girl placed her hands on her hips, standing tall like she was trained to do if she was _ever_ in the presence of a prince. “Evie Grimhilde.”

“Mal.” The purple-haired teen threw Ben a glance. She swung her arms back and forth, looking away from him -- fighting that strange uncomfortable feeling that she might recognize him from somewhere… Though with her poker face, she looked more bored than anything.

Ben looked up at the last boy who didn’t introduce himself yet. “Jafar’s son?”

Jay turned to Ben with a blank look in his eyes. He shrugged, half-listening. He put his hands into his patched up, dark harem pant pockets, tucking his thumbs inside of his fists. “Name’s Jay.”

 _‘Evie, Mal, Carlos and Jay. Okay. Evie, Mal, Carlos and Jay. I’ll have to remember that.’_ He breathed out and continued the tour into the castle. “Okay!” He walked into the school, three of the VKs reluctantly behind him (Evie was the ecstatic one). Once they got inside, Ben stopped again, this time across from some wooden stairs. “This is the main building of which you’re be dorming in. Any questions?”

Evie raised a finger. “Just a tiny little one.” She patted the sides of her black graffiti’d skirt. “Remember when Fairy Godmother mentioned that she doesn’t do magic anymore? What does she mean by that? Isn’t there magic here?”

“Great question! What she means is that there’s a ban on all things magic-- and has been that way for some time now, even before I was born. So while it exists and is _technically_ here, we’re discouraged from using it. That goes for any neighboring territories that are part of Auradon.” He nodded. “We’re all equal here! Ordinary, hardworking mortals is all.”

Mal scoffed, narrowing her eyes. “...Who all happen to be Kings and Queens.”

“Very true!” Audrey interjected once more. She took Ben’s arm and rested it over her shoulder. “Our royal blood stretches back thousands and thousands of years.”

Ben gave a strained smile -- it was clear at that point that things would go south soon. He wasn’t good at this. He had a month before he would ascend to the crown, but if he couldn't even accept the tiniest of tension, how would he deal with the stresses of an entire _kingdom_? Luckily for him, a breakthrough came in the form of a mousy-looking boy who descended down the stairs with a clipboard in hand. “Doug!” Doug picked up his head, tucked the clipboard under his arm and walked over to Ben, greeting him with a wave. Unlike most of Auradon’s populace, Doug didn’t have an overly enthusiastic smile. He only nodded his head politely and waved.

“This is Doug! He’s going to help you with your class schedules and show you your dorms.” Ben looked at his watch, and inhaled sharply. “Ah, I wish I could continue the tour but I have something urgent to attend to. My sincerest apologies. But uh, don’t worry! I’ll assign someone to assist you all tomorrow, as well as show you the way to your classes,” he smiled reassuringly. “On that note, if there is anything that you need,” he looked at them all, and took a step forward, his eyes landing on Mal once more. “Feel free to-”

“ _Call Doug!_ ” Audrey pulled him back “subtly” since she was still held onto his arm. “Okay, now, bye!” She declared, glaring at Mal, while ignoring the look Evie (and the rest) were giving her as she dragged Ben away from them. Mal glared back, although secretly-but-not-so-secretly glad that she was _gone._ (She also _really_ didn’t appreciate the fact that Prince Ben kept staring at her…. But she _also_ didn’t like the fact that she felt like she _knew_ him from somewhere, though she kept that to herself).

Doug stepped up. “Hello! My dad’s Dopey. As in you know, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs? Those gu--” His words got stuck in his throat when Evie turned around, her blue curls moving with her.  “H-heigh ho,” he stuttered.

Evie’s hands found her small waist again and she walked over to him; poised and graceful, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “Evie. Daughter of the Evil Queen.” She stopped just in front of his clipboard and batted her eyelashes.

“Um, I, er-- Oh, right-” He looked away from her, free of her trance (she was _really_ pretty damn it, and her soft, gentle voice was _cute_ ).

“Your uh, classes are almost in order. Everything should be done tomorrow, but your requirements are already set; _History of Woodsmen and Pirates, Safety Rules for the Internet, and Remedial Goodness 101_. The last one, you can tell is new.” He looked up at all of them. “There are other things I’ll fill you in on, such as classroom etiquette, dress codes, so on. But first, I’ll point you to your dorms.” He started walking, and for the last time that day, the VKs were forced to follow yet another Auradonian. 

\---

Hours later:

Night overtook the castle and left Auradon coated in a blanket of darkness - one that didn’t even compare to the Isle’s own.

It was off-putting.

No noises of rowdy people, crimes being committed, no seeing kids and grown ups get beat up, raped, mugged or murdered.

Most streets on the Isle didn't even have lights, whereas Auradon did, as far as they could see. The scenery was off-putting indeed.... But the four Villain Kids tried to not comment on it.

Carlos, the second quietest of the bunch grunted and as he swung his arms about. “Huh! Hah! Hyah!” He stood in front of a large television -- the biggest one he’s probably seen in his fifteen years of life --  and although it made him ecstatic to see one, it also left a bad taste in his mouth. The people of the Isle had only one consistent, propaganda-spewing channel, and mostly broken televisions that were either small, or medium sized -- not even big enough to hang on walls. He didn’t want to seem ungrateful, so he bit down that bitter side of his thoughts, and tried to focus on the “videogame” in front of him. (This was also something he’s never seen so that didn’t help either). The Isle’s version of games weren’t fun, not when he was often at the _end_ of them. He punched at the screen with the cylinder sticks (he learned that they were called “controllers”), which made the character on screen, a black-haired, tall male with a slender figure and brown jacket to shoot at other characters (the “enemies”).

At the moment, the door opened. Carlos’ face turned, and he almost fell with a _“whoa!”_ . He turned his head back to the screen upon seeing that it was Mal. (She looked like she always did; with that poker face of hers that only slightly crumbled when something didn’t go her way or annoyed her). Behind her was Evie. The princess closed the door behind her as her brown eyes took in the sight of the boy’s dorm room; subconsciously wincing. All of it was a wooden brown, from the door, the tables and walls and ceilings. The curtains were an atrocious green and brown plaid, and there was a poster that displayed Auradon’s colors and its crest. (It was crossed out with black marker), and right next to it was graffiti’d _“Down with Auradon”._

“ _What_ are you doing?” Mal crossed her arms over her chest. She attempted to look like an authority figure and not a magically untrained youth. She stopped a few feet in front of Jay, of whom just emptied his pockets onto his already messy bed.

“Inventory check.” He pulled out some french fries from his back-pocket, a half eaten pizza, several bracelets and charms, two coin purses from his inner vest pockets, a wallet, two watches, a compact mirror, several rubies from his front and back pockets (as well as the headphones from earlier) and dumped them on the bed before pulling out a laptop from under his red tank top (which had who-knows-how-old dried blood stains on it). He didn’t turn to look at her. “When did you suddenly care about me? Is the Underworld freezing over?”

“Ha ha,” Mal replied dryly. “I don’t. And why steal all this useless junk now when you can, oh, I don’t know, do it when I-- ‘ _we’_ take over the world?”

“Ooh!” Evie glanced up from her Magic Mirror. “You sounded just like your mother for a sec!”

Mal placed a hand over her heart and turned, smirking at Evie. “Exactly what I was going for.” Evie went back to re-applying mascara.

Jay sighed, and looked out of the window, laptop still in his hands. “I have my own way of doing stuff. You have yours. Stay out of my way and we’re chill.” He put it down on his bed, right next to the other stolen goods already laid out. He groaned to himself. The candy from earlier wasn’t sitting right with him. Luckily he didn’t vomit, but he did have a major _fucking_ headache in addition to a weird aftertaste that wouldn't leave him completely. Eating different kinds all at once was not Jay’s smartest moment.

Carlos, who had ate a little more than Jay did better. _Sort of._ He only vomited once, and that was _after_ he had an upset stomach. (He still had one but it was manageable now). He was used to eating scraps of whatever Cruella could be bothered to give him, or close to none at all. Not that anyone would be able to tell, with him playing the game the way he was. “DIE, SUCKERS!” He yelled excitedly, just as he knocked down one of the enemies in the game (it was called a “mini-boss”, he learned from playing the tutorial hours before). After that, Carlos turned around, and held up the controllers. “Anyone else want to try? It’s.. it’s actually pretty fun!” When nobody volunteered, he shrugged and frowned. “Or not.. More game time for me, I suppose...” He turned back around and continued to play.

Mal crossed over to the table, and placed her hands down on it. She glanced around the room. Once again, she considered her options. She thought about ditching them all to get the wand by herself. A feasible plan if it didn’t leave her vulnerable -- she wasn’t much of an athlete, not like Jay. She couldn’t parkour, run or fight. She was proficient enough at intimidation (in her opinion); maybe she could force Carlos or Evie to do the leg work? A good villain always had henchmen, didn’t they? She huffed, and blew a strand of purple hair from her face. Evie still pampered herself, which made Mal roll her eyes. Carlos was lost in his game, and Jay was… Mal didn’t care what he was doing-- but seeing these so-called fellow “Villain Kids” in the room being so absorbed into their little worlds made Mal scowl. She didn’t like the fact that Carlos seemed to be having fun either... So she marched up to the TV, walked behind it, plugged it out, and disregarded his groans of protest. When she walked back to the table, she snatched Evie’s mirror, and ignored her _“Hey!”._

 _No_ . If Mal didn’t have room to be mediocre, neither did these two. Jay was too ... _Jay_ for her plans. But Evie and Carlos feared her, her mother’s power still. She could perhaps use them, somehow… “We’re all here for one thing, and one thing only,” she ground out. “To get the wand.” Carlos and Evie’s faces fell as they looked at each other, then at Mal. “Yeah?” When they reluctantly walked over to the table, Mal slid Evie back her Magic Mirror. “Good.” Jay drifted towards the table, arms crossed over his chest as he looked over Evie’s shoulder while he kept his distance. Mal sat down. “E, ask it where the stupid thing is.”

Obliging, Evie held it out. “Mirror Mirror in my hand, where does Fairy Godmother’s wand… stand?” (She hasn’t used it yet so she hoped it worked.) It took a little for the screen to clear, but once it did, it showed a white and gold jewel encrusted wand being held in what looked like a glass screen. “Magic Mirror, can you zoom out?” The mirror’s image reconstructed into an image of a building -- one with a sign on it.

“In a museum?” Jay muttered under his breath.

“Do we know where that is?” Mal squinted her eyes.

“I-I can find out,” Carlos said quickly as he opened up the laptop that he was toying with earlier. After he punched in some keys, he turned it around and showed the screen to the rest of the group. “2.3 miles. We can get there if we… if we uh, leave now.”

Mal looked intently at the laptop, a smirk on her lips as she tasted rotten, dreadful victory in her grasp.  “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go.”

 

\---

**Some fifteen to twenty minutes later**

**Museum of Cultural History;**

The three teens pressed themselves against a white-bricked wall as they finally caught their breaths.

(Apparently 2.3 miles _wasn’t_ as easy or quick as Mal thought).

Jay moved forward, the only one unfazed by the sudden workout thanks to his thievery skills on the Isle. If anything, the boy looked more alive than he did in the car -- in his _element_.

As much as Mal hated him, seeing his smirk gave her some confidence that this plan would work. She ignored the burning in her chest and her lungs that cried out for air as she followed behind him. Entering the infrastructure, the four of them found a wooden door with a view of a security guard in a spinning chair watching a row of television screens. Each one showed different rooms, that showcased various villain, hero and sidekick artifacts.

They ducked just under the window as the guard spun in his chair to glance at the door and came back up when his back was turned. Jay’s dark eyes landed on an unfamiliar tool that had a needle, and a wheel. He read the plaque next to it and scoffed.

“You gotta be shitting me. _That’s_ the scary ass spinning wheel that your mother used?”

Even though he wasn’t invited to, Carlos snickered. “It.. it does look underwhelming. …And kinda dorky...”

Mal shut up Carlos with a look. “It’s _magic._ It doesn’t have to look scary.” She took out the spellbook that her mother gifted her from inside her purple leather jacket. (Being flat-chested for her meant she could hide things easier). She skimmed through pages, until she could find a suitable spell -- if there even was one for doors. (There wasn’t). She sighed.

“No easy way out, huh?” Jay quipped.

“Shut. _Up_ .” She ground out. There had to be something! She furiously flipped through the pages, looking for something-- _anything_ . There was nothing for doors, but she found a better spell that could suffice. She tapped her finger against the page, her gaze focused on the words. _“Prick the finger, prick it deep, sleep my enemy off to sleep.”_ She looked up.  Nothing happened. She ground her teeth against each other, ignoring Jay’s taunting chuckle and Carlos’ stifled laughter. She exasperatedly breathed out from her nostrils and tried again. Her eyes glowed green. _“Prick the finger, prick it deep, sleep my enemy off to sleep!”_

Slowly, the lethargic guard got up from his chair, waddled to the spindle, raised his finger and pricked it on the needle. He yawned, stretched his arms over his head and curled up on the floor. He fell asleep without a struggle. Mal’s lips curved up into a victorious grin with the knowledge that magic _did_ indeed work. For the first time in her life, she didn’t feel completely _useless._ At least until she went for the doorknob, and realized that it was locked from the _outside._

_“Shit.”_

“Got it.” Jay was already working at the other doorknob, jiggling with it with one hand, a hairpin in the other. He twisted the pin until it made a clicking noise, and then pressed down, and opened the door. “You’re welcome.”

“.....” The feelings of being inadequate returned to Mal and she stormed past him without a word. Jay smirked, knowing that he got under her skin. He probably liked that way more than he should--- (he was _definitely_ in his element). Carlos and Evie came in after, and when they regrouped, quietly (as they could) ran around the sleeping guard.

When Evie spotted a sign with an arrow, she pointed upwards. 

“Straight up ahead!”  The sounds of rushed footsteps up two flights of stairs and hushed voices filled the deathly silent museum, until the quartet reached an open room. The directory plaque said, _“Villain Exhibit”_ , which was more than right. And also more than _wrong._

In the center of the room stood life-like statues of various Villains. The four in front were none other than Cruella De Vil, Maleficent, Jafar and the Evil Queen. The teens slowed into a stop, until they were all face to face with their own respective “parent”. Carlos’s mom was in a red car, with oversized, bloodshot eyes, pencil-thin eyebrows, brown skin that was definitely several shades _too dark_ , with _exaggerated_ pointy cheekbones, sunken in eyes and overdrawn, big lips that took up half her face _._ One gloved fist was in the air, and her mouth was open, as if yelling or cursing the dalmatians’ names. She looked more horrifying here, and Carlos wasn’t sure if he wanted to cry or run away. _Probably both_.

Queen Grimhilde was also different from what Evie remembered; she was a short, boil-ridden, old hag with a huge nose, long, twisted bony fingers that resembled tree branches rather than actual _fingers_ , with her arms over her head as if trying to protect herself from being hurt or injured. (Evie realized that it was in reference to her mother being crushed by a boulder and gasped loudly, covering her mouth.) She backed away, suddenly feeling light-headed and dizzy. This wasn’t the beautiful, skinny, almost skeletal woman that she’s known all her life... “M-mommy…?”

Maleficent was a great and powerful black and purple-colored dragon. Keyword: _was_ . However her statue was a medium-sized dragon that laid on its side with a sword through its chest. The maw opened, showing broken teeth, and a limp tongue hanging off the side. Maleficent didn’t look as strong as the stories went; she looked small, pitiful, _defeated_ . Mal’s jaw dropped, and she gulped; her hand over her heart. The pain, the imagery -- no. Nononono. _‘This is…’_

The statue of Jafar was painted red with yellow eyes, and overly-buff muscles. His grin was warped into humanly impossible proportions, which made him look more like a cartoonish monster from a child's nightmare. His skeleton was showing. Jafar’s bracelets were absent, and so was the lamp. Jay blinked and shrugged at it. He was confused. Like the others, this was a state that’s he’s never seen his parent in. He was already armed with the knowledge that his sperm donor (because he refused to call himself that bastard’s  _son_ ) was a great and powerful sorcerer. He was even a _Djinn_. (Keyword being _was_ ). From the looks of it, one that got electrocuted. There wouldn't be any other reason to display the skeleton or paint the skin that light so it could be seen. 

 _‘_ _What’s the point of this?’_ He squinted, and looked at the plaque under it. It didn’t say anything useful. He stepped back from the statue, loudly clapped his hands twice and snapped Evie and Carlos out of their parent-induced shock. “Let’s go. It’s no use staying here.”

Evie shakily took a breath and tried to bring herself back into the real world. “Y-yeah…” She walked over to Carlos and gently nudged him. “Let’s go, okay? ...Please?” She asked quietly, lightly rubbing his shoulder.

“…” He turned around and left with Evie at his side, since Jay already left the room.

“I’ll come later.” Mal muttered just loud enough for maybe Evie to hear. Making sure she was left alone in the room, she looked in both directions. With a sigh of relief, Mal looked at the statue again. Driven by an unspoken need, she felt drawn to the statue. She wanted to touch it. If her mother was in the room with her, she’d scold her for being emotional, for being weak.  _Again._  But Maleficent wasn't there. Not physically. Mal walked closer to the statue and got on her knees, a hand outstretched to touch its snout. When she did, she heard a familiar voice in her head.

( _“Weakling!”, “Pathetic little creature!”, “Good for nothing!”_ ).

“Aaah!” She let out a yelp, and stumbled away from the statue. She whipped her head to the left and the right of her; trying to discern the source of said voice. “Mother?” But there was nothing, she was met with silence. Mal sighed again, smoothed down some of her hair, and put on her poker face once more. _‘It’s all in your head. Just a stupid nagging voice,’_ she told herself. She stood up and turned her back to walk away only to stop again.

_("You disgrace!”)._

A louder voice screamed in Mal’s head, making her flinch and slam her hands over her ears. This one didn’t sound like her mother-- no-- this voice was much more deeper and sinister. 

 _ **“DisgRAAAAAAaaaAAAAaaaCEEEEEEEEEE!!”**  _The dragon’s head lifted, lime-green eyes adorned with a sinister glow. The dragon pushed itself off of its side and broke free out of its spot. It stalked towards Mal, sword still in its chest. Black blood oozed out of its wound where the sword lay, onto the sparkly white tiles below it. _“ **NooOoooOOOOT GOOD ENoUGH!”**_ It _roared,_ and the room shook. _Clank!_ The sword fell, exposing the stab wound. Something white, most likely bone was visible behind a wall of severed pink meat and veins. The dragon wheezed, and the unsettling noise made a chill go down Mal’s spine as she turned to face it.

She jumped back in surprise. _“_ M-Mother! It’s me! _”_ Mal yelled. “It’s me, Mal!” Her cries fell on deaf ears as Maleficent continued her slow, agonized walk towards her. It stopped once Mal’s back hit the wall, with nowhere to run. It opened its mouth and roared again, causing the fifteen-year-old to shut her eyes and put her arms up to defend herself. The gust of wind generated by her mother’s roar made her heart leap into her throat. She coughed violently, trying to get air back into her lungs. Smoke came out of the creature's nostrils. The dragon wheezed and opened its maw; rows of sharp, uneven, broken teeth accompanied by a long tongue and saliva-- some of which dropped on Mal’s face. Before she had a chance to say something else, the creature quickly snatched her up into her mouth.

( _"_ _Not my daughter”, “Weak imitation”, “Pitiful excuse of a child”)._

She didn’t even get a chance to snatch the wand, all because she was emotionally vulnerable. She was just like her weak, _spineless,_ human father. The father she doesn’t remember. The weak, human father she doesn’t even know and was raised to _hate._

**(“ _I WISH YOU WERE NEVER BORN!”_ ).**

Maleficent’s voice bounced in Mal’s head once more, louder this time. It was hard to breathe, and she couldn’t see anything--

“Mal! We found the wand!” Evie stood by the entrance of the exhibit room.

“Huh?”  She blinked twice, glancing at Evie. Then she looked at herself. Her body was still in one-piece and sighed a sigh of relief. _‘I didn’t die..? All of it wasn’t real. It wasn’t..’_ She shook her head and she stepped away from her mother’s statue. It had been the same _before_ the nightmare began. _Whatever the hell that was_ . Mal shuddered. Her eyes lingered on the statue a second longer before she shook her head and followed Evie out, of whom had already walked back down the hall. _‘I need to get this wand already…’_ Passing by the golden gates, Mal stopped just before a balcony, alongside Evie and Carlos. There was the white and gold jewel encrusted wand floating in midair, surrounded by not a glass case, but---

“A force-field. Dalmatians,” Carlos breathed.

"We can't, can't... get through it." He muttered to himself. The boy rubbed at his eyes to make sure that he wasn’t imagining things.

Nope.

Still there. 

Mal, however, wasn’t listening. With the harsh words of her mother still ringing in her ears despite her best efforts to push it down, she was one-track minded. Whatever plot she had been cooking in the car and in the boy’s room had been thrown out because Mal raised her spell book and flipped through pages once more, and mumbled to herself, “there’s probably a spell for this too. There has to be..”

“This is a trap. I’m calling bullshit on this right now. This was way too easy.” Jay pointed out, with suspicious, narrowed eyes. “Why would an ancient, all-powerful artifact just be lying around like that?” Even though he wanted to take it-- even if every inch of his essence _screamed_ for him to snatch it right from everyone’s noses -- _including_ Mal’s-- he had to admit that something definitely wasn’t right.. So he took a step back, hands in his pockets as he tried to suppress the compulsive urge to steal again.. He’d already swiped small items from the other three. (And from the looks of things, none of them have noticed yet.)

“I, uh, I think he’s right, Mal. Don’t you… don’t you think so?” He stuttered, inching away from her. Unsavory memories of the past flooded back from when he last tried to stand up for himself -- the party he was forced to throw at his, no, _Cruella_ ’s house. Suddenly the back of his neck burned and he had to scratch it. “It’s… it’s just .. floating there..”

“M?” Evie tried. “Mal?”

Maleficent’s daughter still wasn’t listening. Light green eyes stayed buried in her book, scanning pages for something, _anything_ , that would help--

Jay walked around the trio, stopping on the opposite side of them. **_‘Look up, genius.’_** The voice in his head told him. Glancing up, Jay squinted. There was a circular device-like thing up on the ceiling, where the light was shining down on the wand from. On one side of the “sphere”, was a red dot that was blinking. **_‘There you go.’_ **

“Streetlamps.” He cursed.

 _“Finally.”_ Mal sighed exasperatedly. She tapped her finger against a page of her mother’s spellbook.

“Mal, _wait._ ”

Mal snapped her head up to look at Jay. “What?”

“Don’t you remember the screens from downstairs? Those aren’t for decorations.” Jay looked at them, and pointed a finger up. “There’s security cameras.”

Mal scrunched up her face. What the hell did she care about some damn cameras?! She had _magic._ The guard was sleeping downstairs and she can just as easily make him forget, couldn’t she? She’s the one who made him sleep! “So?” She responded indignantly.

“‘ _So?_ ’”, Jay repeated, not surprised by her naiveté. He smacked his forehead with his palm and exhaled from his mouth. “I know you have mommy issues, but is it worth getting _caught_ and sent back to the Isle?”

Mal’s lips pulled down into a scowl. “I’m not going to get caught,” she hissed. “And stop talking to me like I’m an idiot!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to contain himself. “...You _are_ being an fuckin' idiot! I’m not your sidekick or your henchman, so don't bark orders at me. You're so short-sighted and ignore what’s in front of you! _For what?_ So that your mom can hate you less? Get over yourself. You’re _annoying._ ”

Evie’s eyes widened as she took another step away from Mal. Carlos followed suit.

“ _Excuse_ me?!” Mal snarled, slamming her book shut. She marched halfway to him.

“I didn't stutter, did I?” Irritation openly seeped into his tone. He walked the other half, stopping right in front of her.

“What’s your freaking problem?!” She raised her slightly cracked voice, and pushed on his shoulders to shove him.

“What the hell is _yours_?!” He raised his own voice, unmoving. His right eyebrow began to twitch and his fists were trembling, itching to do some damage. _‘I know you’re dead but Mufasa, if you can hear me, give me some patience or something, so I don’t knock this bitch out right now--’_  Jay inhaled sharply, trying to gather himself. He couldn’t afford to lose it here… _**'D̸o̷ ̴i̴t̵.. '̸͎̇Ǹ̵̝ŏ̸̤b̶͍o̷͖̓d̵̹͊y̸̡͊ ̵͕̽w̵͎̆ȍ̴̪u̷͙͝l̸̲̑d̵̲͗ ̶͈͒m̶̝̎i̶̘͛s̵̼̃s̶̼͘ ̴̘̈h̷̦́e̴͇̐ř̸̻,̸͓͝ ̵͚̓y̷̥͌'̴̻͑k̶͉̆ṅ̷͙o̷͜͝w̷̘̒.̴̣͋.̶̺̾.̵͍̈'̷͔̈'**_ The 'other' voice whispered in his head. He pushed it down. “Running around, hiding behind your mom’s name so that people can fear you? You’re pathetic.”

Mal gasped. How dare he?! “You don’t know anything about me!” Her anger bubbled to the surface. She was tempted to throw her book at him, but didn’t, only because she remembered where she was. Her grip on it tightened, however. “You don’t do anything but brood and mope when your little dumpster kitten isn’t around!”  

 _That’s it._ Without warning, he snatched the book out of the younger girl’s hands, and held it away from her. It took Mal some minutes to even realize that it wasn’t in her hand anymore, much less that he  _swiped_ it from under her nose. He then used his other hand to punch her in the throat. Mal’s hands found her neck and stumbled back from surprise with some coughs. “I’m sick and tired of your bullshit.” With the hand that held the spellbook, he chucked it in her direction without much care -- it collided with her face, the spine of the book hitting the bridge of her nose. “If you want to go ahead on a self-destructive, pointless,  _stupid_  mission to make your shitty mom proud of you, go right the fuck ahead. You can keep digging your own grave for all I care." 

“J-Jay… I think you should lower your-”

“ _Fuck off_ , you walking black-and-white polkadot.” Jay interjected. “None of you are gonna call her out on her shit because you’re too busy being her bitches.” His fist started trembling again. "So someone has to." He needed to hit something or _someone_. Or steal something. Maybe both-- he groaned in pain and clutched the left side of his face. _'S̴t̶o̴p̶ ̵f̵ ̷i̵ ̴g̸ ̶h̸ ̶t̷ ̶i̴ ̷n̷ ̸g̸ ̶m̵e̴.̵'_

 _'I'm ignoring you for a reason, chicken-shit. Fuck off, I don't need you right now.'_ Jay hissed through his teeth. 

"Are you...?" Evie spoke up. 

"Shut up." Jay walked to the wall and pressed his forehead against the cool drywall and rubbed both sides of his temples. _'̴̧̼̻͒̒͒̎͘D̴̯̗͍̣̙͖̂o̴̦̹̅͋̎̒͜ ̶̗͉̺͚̩̒i̸̬̒̇̕͝͝͝ṭ̷̢̡̥̼͋͐ ̷̘̂̕͝a̵͍͓͙̗̱͕̿̚l̵̡̺̫̬̪̦̐̆r̴̗̟̩̱͎̘͑̓̌̋͗ë̴̜̗̈́̓͠ȃ̷͈̝̲͂̅̏̈́̇d̴̗̭̹̖̘͚̀̆͗́̈́y̵̛̞̖̬̆̋̑͛̚.̶̡͓̰̣̖̼̾̓̈͆ ̸̹͎͔͎̩̍̓Y̷̡̙̳̪̪͆́̽̓͗ó̷̫͉̭͂̔u̸͕͉̙̅̊ ̵̮̠̹͗̽̂k̷̛̪̹̈́̈̓̆ͅn̸̫̓o̵̖̅̃̌̀̎w̷̺͐̀͋ ̸̛̯̏͛̉ý̴̰̠̪̗͋͌͝o̶͓͔̥͔̱͗̿̍̇͌ũ̷̼ ̴̰͍̬̅͐̓̓̓͗w̸̡͇̦̞͓̼a̶̗̜͈̟͂̇̊̾͘n̴̞̲͇̝̽̂t̴̺̼̝͝ ̸̨̘͍̃̽̂t̴̺̺͛͝õ̴̡̪̬͎͆͋͝͝.̸͔͆̕'̸̱͎̇̇͐̕͜ ̵͙̱̪̳̺̫͗̎_

_'I said no. Leave me alone, Cobra. Go. To. Sleep.'_

Carlos opened his mouth to say something but shut his mouth and released a frightened squeak when there was a loud _CRAACCK!_  His eyes widened. "Um.." 

Jay lifted his head from the small dent left on the wall. He turned back around, tilted his head to the side and cracked his neck. He did the same on the opposite side and exhaled calmly. He ignored the mildly concerned (and definitely semi-freaked out) looks of Evie and Carlos, respectively. Mal, who had just recovered from being  _hit,_ and thrown her  _own book_ at, stared on with spiteful, narrowed, semi-frightened eyes. She _still_ refused to call it fear. (She also picked up her book and rubbed her nose gently.)

Jay rolled his shoulders and then relaxed. " _What_. Never seen crazy before?" 

Carlos frowned. "Not... not like, not like that.." 

"..." Evie wanted to say something, but she decided against it. For some reason, one of his earlier lines sprang up in her head.

( _“....I wonder how Maleficent would feel if one of her lackeys lost a hand.”_ )

She wasn't sure of the significance then, but she realized that Jay had said that  _casually._ She frowned and wondered if he actually did cut off hands... (She subsciously hugged herself). But what if he did worse? ....What if he was more wicked than they all believed? Sure, her mother talked to herself and developed a "Magic Mirror" voice but... she's never seen anyone so... _tortured_. She now noticed the slight bags under his eyes, his aggressive, tense stance, his tightly balled up fists, his cold, _distant_ personality and the hostility in his eyes. With a single look into them, she finally realized. He didn't  _just_ hate Mal. He hated _all of them_. Even _her._ "Jay..."

"Pity me and I'll _slit your throat_ while you sleep." The venom in his tone was unmistakable. Evie flinched from it, and so did Carlos. "You." He glared at Mal. "You got a choice: Take the wand now or don't. But after tonight, don't expect shit from me ever again if you make the wrong one."

Mal's instinct was to make a cutting comment, to hurt him as he did her-- but that was the problem.

She wasn't Jay.

She wasn't good at reading people, so she knew next to nothing about him save for bits and pieces about his relationship with Jafar. And even a baby would know that they didn't get along so she didn't even have _that_ much! She clenched her jaw, and glared back.  _'How dare he?'_ She thought.

How dare he, a thief, a mere mortal,  _Isle rat_ corner her, a pixie, the daughter of the mighty _Maleficent_?!

Her teeth ground against each other so much they hurt. Then she closed her eyes, and exhaled. She felt the familiar energy from before, when she made the guard fall asleep. She felt her eyes glow green once more.  _'No. That's what he wants. He's not worth it. The wand's right there.'_ She opened her eyes, and the green faded. There was a long pause. Mal moved her eyes from Jay, and looked at the other two-- Carlos and Evie. She still wasn't fond of Carlos, nor Evie all that much, but at least they were still scared of her. As long as that was a reality, she could manage. Somehow. "I'm going for the wand."

Evie gasped. "But what about--?"

"I don't care," Mal cut her off. "Like I said, I- _we_ , came here for one thing. And one thing only. Now shut up and let me cast my spell." Evie bit down on her lower lip, and rubbed at her arm. Carlos stood there awkwardly, drumming his fingers against his thighs. There was no spell to take down ... well, whatever the wand was surrounded by. But there was one to make things appear. So with one hand, Mal held her book. The other was outstretched, palm up. _'Let this work..'_

 _"Now is the time, and now in this hour, I command thee to bend to my power."_ Nothing happened.

Jay shook his head, and placed his hands in his pockets.  _'This_ _is why I don't talk. People don't listen.'_ Silently, Jay walked towards the entrance of the room, taking his leave. 

 _"Now is the time, and now in this hour, I command thee to bend to my power!"_ Mal tried again. Again, nothing happened. So she tried again, _"Now is the time, and now in this hour, I command thee to bend to my power!"_

Finally, the wand responded-- a bright golden glow surrounded it, one that looked similar to the magic bridge that she looked at it closely. It slowly moved itself, but stopped when it hit the force field. Then came the near-deafening noise. Mal, Carlos and Evie slammed their hands over their ears, overwhelmed by the loudness of the noise. 

"A forcefield _AND_ a siren?!" Carlos questioned, his eyebrows furrowed. 

"A little much, if you ask me!" Evie responded. 

Rudely awakened, the guard jolted awake with a snort. He rubbed his eyes, as it took him time to register the siren going off. When he did, he walked over to his desk and grabbed a flashlight. 

Mal panicked and turned tail, going the opposite way of which they came. "Shit!" 

"Wait for us!" Evie whisper-shouted. She followed Mal, Carlos right behind.

Silent halls greeted them again, minus the sound that they were leaving behind, which included distant footsteps traveling upwards. Some moments after they fled, the guard searched the wand room, flooding it with a blinding white light.

Nobody was here.

They all reached the lower level, and rushed out of the wooden doors.

The guard went back downstairs, and scanned the room with the flashlight. Nobody was down there, either...

\---

The adolescents ran, and ran as fast as they could, with no thought, or worry of what became of Jay. But Mal quickly remembered something else, something more annoying than him.

More annoying than failing to get the damn wand.

More annoying than anything in the world. 

"...we have to go to school tomorrow..." She complained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References for Languages Spoken: 
> 
> Arabic:  
> Djinn/Jinn = Alt. spelling of Genie.
> 
> Isle slang:  
> Dumpster kitten = a general derogatory term/insult.  
> Isle rat = also a derogatory term. Equivalent of "street rat", "hood rat", etc. Meant to denote or refer to someone as having little to no status that they're on the same level as a rodent. 
> 
> Notes:  
> Telecommunication, instead of Wi-Fi, because 1) it sounds better, 2) it encompasses everything including computers and so much more which better fits the description of the Isle.  
> 


End file.
